


Heaven

by harurisons



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 68,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harurisons/pseuds/harurisons
Summary: Stanley Uris and Reader were a couple head over heels in love during their time living in Derry. After moving away, they’ve forgot each other, but always had a strange void in their lives that nothing and no one could fill. Right before Stanley’s ready to take himself off the board, his phone rings again and he decides to answer it. Stanley’s met with Reader’s voice and they agree to go back to Derry. When they do, not only memories and people come back to them, but old feelings, as well. They grow like a friendly tumor between them again, you could say. Will they face their fears again, now in more gruesome forms? How many of the Losers come out of this alive? Will they be ready to face hidden parts of themselves? Will they defeat IT together once and for all? Only one way to find out.(forgive me, i am no good at summaries)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Stanley Uris/Reader, The Losers Club/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 30





	1. heaven

The name Mike Hanlon said to you over the phone brought back so many memories which you can’t ever remember forgetting. He said many names, but one caught your ear best. They were all names of your childhood best friends, all meant the greatest deal to you. The meaning lasted until you moved out of Derry, and forgot each of their names, stories and significance to you. Including Stanley Uris.

And you knew then exactly what was missing through your whole life. That one person who holds a whole world inside of him, a whole little universe. He was always the tug backwards, the something that discouraged you from making any big decision, that one thing you always saved all the good stuff for. All precious experiences, usable polaroid film, your life-long savings, your best dresses and blouses and skirts, your empty sketchbooks.

Now it was crystal clear who you were saving it all for. This person you thought you’d save everything that was ever dear and worth saving for. This person you didn’t know most of your life, you had forgot knowing. Stanley. Bird boy. The Rabbi’s son. Your classmate, your friend. Your best friend.

And, alas, the boy you liked as a little girl, and as a teenager. Truth be told, if you’d never moved away after high school, the feelings would have progressed and continued on, they would only be stronger than ever. But you wouldn’t know. Nor you, nor Stanley wouldn’t know how your lives would turn out if you’d both stayed in Derry.

His moving away was a huge heartbreak for you both. The teenage couple everyone loved, including their best friends, parents and even teachers. The day was the most despised of all days by you, by Stanley. He hated leaving you, but it was not his choice, but his parents. And “…as long as you live under my roof, as long as you are my son, you obey my wishes!”. What an unpleasant man his father was. You had always been afraid of him, never dared to breath more than needed in his presence. And staying in Derry wasn’t your choice, either. It was your parents’ idea and decision. They wouldn’t let you go because of Stanley.

That was the last day you saw Stanley Uris. Your last glance at him was through tears, Stan was waving at you through the car window, his own tears streaming down his face. He didn’t want his last appearance in your mind to be a sad one, but he couldn’t hide his feelings. He wanted you to see him smile at the last second. But he just couldn’t move his lips to smile.

He had kissed you good-bye many, many times, telling you each kiss was the last so you’d have less to long for. It didn’t work, of course. Tearful kisses, they were. Promises of meeting each other soon, promises of running away together then and there. Remembering the best moments together, the funniest moments together. You were tied together like two vines that usually decorate forgotten houses or fences, inseperable at your last moments together.

You promised Mike to return to Derry, Maine, tomorrow. You weren’t sure of your decision, but you knew you made an oath. You remembered it, Mike helped you to. You remembered how big of a mile-stone it was in your life. The day at Neibolt and the oath made in the meadow by the river was life-changing. It meant more to you than anything you had promised or decided in your life, before and after. That’s why you had to go back.

Ending the call, you burst into tears, and almost dropped your device on the floor. Your hands held your head as you collapsed on the sofa with your back first. You wheezed and you cried and practically screamed. All the memories–good and bad–had come back to touch your soul and your heart and your mind. It was an overwhelming feeling. As if you’re getting too much information at once, as if you’re being slapped in the face with a brick. It’s too sudden and it’s too much.

You decided you had to call Stan. You texted Mike to send his number, and he did–quite quickly, too. You had to hear the voice of your childhood crush, your best friend. And you were hoping he’d pick up, that you’d hear his voice. That he was actually alive still. Anything might have happened and the fact that Mike has his phone number doesn’t mean anything. Stanley Uris could be in any state and situation right now, you could only guess. And you’re guessing it’s a good one he’s in, a happy life, but pessimistic thoughts starting with “what if” invade your mind as well as the good ones do. You’re scared.

Stanley is scared, too. He’s scared for his life. He’s scared for all their lives. Stanley’s most scared of what it means to meet his fears again. He’s afraid of what he’ll see. Afraid he won’t save his friends if they need saving. He’s afraid to lose any of them. What happens if he lets them die because he’s trapped between his own worst fears? What if he has to watch his friends die?

And Y/N. What if he sees her… No, it’s too horrible to think about. He can’t bear the thought of losing her. Who knows which time in order it would be now. He’s lost her countless times. He’s been lost without her his whole life, and only now does he understand she’s been the one to fill this empty spot inside him everywhere he goes. The love of his life. His first real love, his first girl.

She has to survive. She has to live further. And Stanley can’t risk endangering that. He’s going to be the downfall of this whole mission if he goes back. He’ll endanger his friends because he can’t face his fears, he can’t deal with them like he should. He’s too afraid.

So he gets in the bath, stark naked, and with only one thing on his mind. He’s written the letters to each of his friends already, and it took him a while. But the words to say he always had in his mind, so the only problem was how fast his hand could write them on pieces of paper. Then the envelopes and he was done.

The bath water is comforting and as Stanley lay under it, he can’t help but remember the Blood Oath. The look of determination in Bill Denbrough’s eyes as he cut Stanley’s wrist with a piece of glass. The promise Stanley gave to him with spoken words and with his eyes, and his heart. The promise he thought would shape the rest of his life, but what shaped his whole life was actually what made the Losers Club make their blood oath.

His phone rings again. It alarms Stanley and due to his little jump, the water in the bath moves in sudden waves and spills over the edges. He turns his head towards where his phone, his wedding ring and his clothes lay, the chair in the corner of the bathroom. He sighs and contemplates whether to answer or not to.

Stanley’s eyes glance at the blade laying on the side of the bath. It brings terror to his heart and mind. The pain he would cause himself with it. The sight of the blade gives his body a fearful shiver. He looks back at the still ringing phone. Who could be calling him? Mike again? Or someone from work?

He decides to rise from the bath and answer the phone. Stanley almost slips on his way over to the phone, but catches himself before he can. He wraps his dark blue robe around himself and ties the knot, and finally reaches for the phone. His hands are shaking.

It’s an unknown number calling. Still calling, might he add. He slides the answer button to the right and lifts the phone to his ear. He’s doing the right thing, he tells himself, and tries to convince his fears with the same sentence.

“S-Stanley Uris speaking.” His shiver impacts his voice and he stutters. He waits for the caller to introduce themselves, but he only hears a cry and sobs on the other end. Is this another trick from… IT? Has IT actually called him?

“Stanley?” A feminine voice asks. “Is it really you?” And Stanley knows immediately who it is. It’s Y/N. It’s her calling him. She’s actually on the other end of the phone.

“Yes, yes, this is me.” He confirms and takes a seat on his bathroom floor carpet. He nods with his head, despite that his childhood best friend can’t see him right now. “Is this Y/N?”

Y/N nods, too. “It is me, Stan.” She tells him, and there’s another cry on her end. “God, I’m so glad to hear your voice. I thought… You know, with all these years that have passed, anything could have happened. Who knows if you were… If any of you would still be here!” Y/N admits to him, and there’s even a sad chuckle after her words. Stanley does the same, a small smile on his face despite the dreadful situation he’s in.

“God… I don’t even know what to say.” Stanley says and pulls his knees closer to his chest. Little does he know, Y/N makes the same pose on her living room couch.

“Me neither.” She replies.

“Well, I could start with don’t cry.” Stanley tells her, and it makes both of them mutter a quiet chuckle. Y/N’s voice sounds dry, hoarse, and it’s only because of her previous and current weeping.

“Did you get the call from Mike?” She asks then, and tears sting her eyes again. Only the thought of her friends and Derry and everything that comes with it can push her to such an emotionally high level… It’s hard. It’s even hard for her to talk.

“I did.” Stanley says very quietly. The thought of what he was about to do terrifies him now, and it terrified him when he was in the bath. He’s still not sure about going back. He’s never been this afraid, he thinks, but he could be wrong. “Are you going?” He asks Y/N in a whisper, and the question brings tears out to wet his cheeks and chin. He’s so scared to think about going back. Stanley’s terrified of the thought of all of them in the sewers again.

Y/N breaks down. Her fingers squeeze her nose and she tries not to cry, pressing her eyes shut tightly. But the tears do come, and the sobs come, too. She cries into the phone, and Stanley can hear the dispair and obvious dislike of the question and the thoughts surrounding it in just her sobs. “We have to.” She says after a short while. She wipes her tears and looks up at her white ceiling, taking a deep breath and breathing out again. “I will go back. We made a promise.” She finally says. A silent prayer that Stanley is coming can be heard in these words from her. She waits for his answer.

Stanley sighs deeply and lets a few tears fall down his cheeks, watching them make darker spots on his robe. He’s surrounded by fear. By fear, by doubts, by options, by chances, by memories. And Y/N’s voice. Not what she sounds like now. What her voice was like when they were both little. Her giggles, her cheers, her squeals, her voice. The memories make him smile. They shine brightly through the cloud around his mind.

“Stanley?” She now asks, and brings him out of dwelling on the past. It’s not all bad, though, and he sees that now. There’s still light. There’s still hope. Y/N sniffs and looks down at her feet. “Are you still here?” She questions still.

“I’m coming, too.” Stanley finally tells her. He wants to say ‘i’m coming, too, then’, because it’s really only her that he’s going back to Derry for. To prevent the risk of losing her, to prevent the risk of IT taking over her life. “Mike said I need to be there tomorrow.” He says. Y/N nods.

“Yeah, he told me that, too.” She says. “I guess I'll… see you then.” She then says. Stanley yearns to tell her 'don’t hang up!’, but there’s the certainty of them meeting in maybe less than twenty-four hours. The thought excites and scares him at the same time. What if something goes wrong and he doesn’t make it? What if something happens to Y/N and she doesn’t go? “Home.” Y/N mutters.

“Home” Stanley repeats in a whisper. “I–I’m looking forward to it.” Stanley tells her, his head nodding as if a visual confirmation of his words. Y/N’s lips can’t help but curl into a small grin. He’s looking forward to meeting her.

“Me, too.” She tells him in response. “I’m gonna pack now, so I’ll see you… tomorrow.” Y/N informs. It still takes a bit of time to process and actually say the words, they seem to describe something unreal. Something out of a dream. Is Y/N sure she’s not dreaming now? Maybe she’s not talking to Stanley at all… She sure hopes not.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Stanley nods. “Tomorrow.”

Y/N closes her eyes. “Bye, Stanley.” She says and waits for him to say the same.

“Bye-bye, Y/N.” He bids goodbye in the same way he did and has always done. Y/N smiles once recognising it. Her finger presses the red button at the bottom of her phone screen, ending the all, and puts her phone down on the coffee table in front of her. She runs her hands over her face, trying to wipe every trace of a tear off and get some energy into herself. She sighs. This won’t be easy.

“Stanley? Honey, what’s going on?” Patty asks and she knocks on the Uris’ bathroom door for the hundredth time. But Stanley hears her knocks and her questions for the first time and he looks at the door in front of him. “Will you let me in?” His wife asks carefully. She almost asked him 'do you want to let me in?’, but that would be silly to ask.

Stanley’s eyes immediately fall upon the razor on the tub’s edge. He panics. Shit. Where is he gonna put it? Stanley rises to his feet, takes the razor in one hand, walks over to the bathroom window, opens it a tiny slit–very quietly so–and throws the razor out.

With it, gone is his terror and fears. At least for now. That razor was a beacon for all things bad and traumatic and fear-inticing. He breathes a deep breath and puts his phone down on his pile of clothes. He hesitates to put on his ring, staring at it for a while. But then he puts it back on his left ring finger and goes to open the door to face Patty.

He’s met with her face twisted by worry and anxiety. Almost tears in her eyes. Stanley offers her a hug when she comes into the bathroom, eyes examining everything they fall upon, and he hugs her tightly, comfortingly.

“Stanley, what’s going on? You’re acting very strange.” Patty says once she looks at her husband and inspects his face. Her palm touches his cheek, and she notices how he’s leaning into her hand a little less than he does usually. That’s weird. “Has something happened? Who called you?”

Stanley’s eyes are calm, and he takes a breath before he speaks, trying to keep himself content. “An old friend of mine from Derry, Maine. I don’t think I’ve ever told you about him or my other friends… Frankly, I didn’t remember so much that I could tell you.” He tells Patty, and she waits for more. “But that’s not so important. The thing is, I have to go back there, and I have to go now.” Stanley finally gets to the main part. “There’s a thing we have to fix, because we made an oath when we were… younger. And if we don’t fix it now, then… No one ever will.”

Patty’s face is puzzled, just like Stanley expected. She wonders why her husband is so secretive and runs her thumb over his stubbled cheek once more.

“That’s about as much as I can tell you, baby-love.” He tells her and places a kiss on her forehead. “Please trust me.” Stanley begs her when he looks into Patty’s eyes again. He’s never done that before, except the first time they ever made love, and the begging for trust was not verbal, it was through his eyes. Something’s really off.

Patty nods. “I trust you, honey.” She assures him and Stanley gives her a relieved smile. “I can help you with anything you need, but you need to tell me why you were taking a bath.” Patty asks of him. “You rarely take baths so late in the evening.”

Stanley sighs. He really doesn’t want to lie to Patty, not after everything. Not while he loves her and not when she promised to trust him. Not when she has trusted him for all this time. But she can’t know the truth. It’d be very harmful for her, to say the least. “I needed to put some things in place. Figured a bath would help me do that.” He tells her. It’s not exactly a lie, it’s a generalisation of what he did.

Patty’s eyes still show some sort of reluctance, because she does find his behavior after the call very out-of-the-ordinary. But she lets it go. If there’s something her husband needs to do, he will and she won’t stop him. It’s clearly very important to him, why else would he be acting so strange?

“How long will you be gone for?” Patty asks Stanley as they’re both folding clothes he’d take with him back to his hometown.

“I really don’t know.” He tells her in response. “But I don’t think it’ll be more than four to five days. So I…” won’t be gone for that long. But he doesn’t know that. He can’t promise her what he’s not sure of. He may even never return. Or, rather, he may not return to her as a husband. No, he mustn’t think that way. But what if it happens? He meets Y/N and everything changes. “So I’ll call you, okay? I will let you know, whatever happens.” Stanley stops folding and looks at her with a serious look glazing over his brown orbs.

Patty nods. “I trust you, Stanley. Everything will be alright.” She tells him, and even offers him a smile. Stanley returns one and kisses the top of her palm. It still makes Patty blush.


	2. everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader meets up with her forgotten friends. Feelings float up to the surface.

Derry is dark. It is summer, and yet the night here falls quicker than in other towns. And it was more gruesome here. The night hid more in Derry than what appears to the eyes of someone passing by. Y/N knows that well.

The Jade At Orient Express neon entrance lights shine bright in the dark night and almost make Y/N squint her eyes at the brightness. She sighs as she stands before the entrance door. This won’t be easy. But she will see her friends. More memories will come back. Good and bad. God, she’ll probably remember things she doesn’t want to and has happily forgotten. She hesitates to pull the door open, standing just half a foot away from the handle. Her friends will be there with her. It will be okay.

Her chance of opening the door is stolen by someone else’s hand. They pull the door open before Y/N can even step closer to it and hold it open for her. She has to thank this stranger, so she turns towards them with a grateful smile. Her eyes first see the dark jeans the person is wearing, the sweater and then the shirt collar peaking out of the sweater. Then, dark curls that cast shadows on the frail chin, the round cheeks, the pointed, small nose and the brown, dark eyes. She sees thin eyebrows, dark roots of the curly hair. Looks awfully familiar. Could it be…

When their eyes meet, both pairs widen in shock and freeze. They realise who they’re both looking at. Y/N’s lips change into a widely-opened o-shape and all she lets out is a squeal. To Stanley, it still sounds the same as her child-like squeals did back in the day.

His face breaks out into a wide smile and he even chuckles. “Hello there.” He greets her finally. Y/N smiles, too, and immediately goes to embrace him. The restaurant entrance door is long forgotten.

“Don’t you “hello there” me, mister Uris.” She tells him when she feels his arms sliding around her back to hug her. Y/N sighs and closes her eyes. She feels somehow peaceful in this little moment in time. “I didn’t even know how much I missed you.” She admits upon opening her eyes. “Until I… Until Mike said your name.” Y/N tells him.

That’s when they pull apart and look into each other’s eyes again. Wow. Stanley sure has grown to be taller, Y/N thinks to herself. But his eyes… They’re the same, only older. They look exactly the same. They hold the same soul, the same big world inside of them.

Everything about Y/N is the same, Stanley observes. She’s only aged, that’s all. She’s the same little Y/N who’d run around after bubbles and birds and chase the bugs she found beautiful. Same little girl who always had a trick up her sleeve. The same girl who was once his girlfriend. Stanley smiles.

“I hate to have forgotten you.” He tells her, and Y/N’s eyes show agreement. “We should go inside, right?” He asks, then, and Y/N nods.

“I don’t know if we’re late or early, but I don’t see anyone I could recognise inside just yet.” She admits, and Stanley again swings the door open and they both go inside.

“Actually, I don’t think we’d know how our friends look right off-the-bat.” Stanley speaks. They both look around the lobby. No one really stands out here.

“We were best friends.” Y/N says. “It didn’t take us too long to recognise each other.” She points out when she looks at Stanley again. He agrees. They spent the much more time together than with their other friends, they remember that. They were a couple, after all. 

Stanley and Y/N both look at each other with questioning eyes, as if not sure that they’re really here, that they do see each other and are, in fact, back together in their hometown. The sight still seems like dreams to them both. An illusion. One of them is more suspicious that it might be an actual illusion created by IT.

They don’t have time to think, their names are called by a familiar voice. And that voice belongs to Eddie Kaspbrak. They could recognise his intonation any place, any time. Y/N and Stanley turn towards the man with welcoming smiles and watch him walk closer to them.

“Stanley? Y/N? Is that really you two?” He asks. There’s a glad smile on Eddie’s face and his eyes keep a guessing glance on the two in front of him. Mischief is in them, too.

“It’s us.” Y/N tells him, nodding. Eddie breaks out into a laugh. “My God, how you’ve grown.” She tells Eddie, looking him up and down. She would like to give him a hug, but she knows Eddie too well and that she shouldn’t even try.

“He hasn’t.” Stanley says and Eddie gives him an annoyed glance. “You haven’t changed a bit.” He tells his friend and even dares to pat his shoulder, at which Eddie flinches a little.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie brings his hands up, “now that we’re done laughing at me–did you guys come together?” He asks and sticks his hands into his jean pockets.

“Oh, no, no.” Stanley shakes his head. Y/N hides her little smile and blush of the thought Eddie’s question brought.

“We just met outside.” Y/N explains.

“Wait, you’re not married to each other?!” Eddie raises his voice. His eyes widen in big surprise. “How is that–”

“Keep your voice down!” Stanley shushes his friend, worried of the heads already turning in their direction. Y/N feels puzzled, and embarrassed, by Eddie’s question. Maybe in another life they would be married. A life that isn’t changed by a killer clown demon that lives in the Derry sewers… “Where are we all sitting?” Stanley asks Eddie, then.

“I’ll ask the waitress.” Y/N volunteers and leaves both men standing by the entrance. She approaches a girl that looks as if dressed in a uniform and speaks. “I’m sorry,” she starts.

“Hello, ma'am, how can I help you?” The girl asks her, a nice smile on her face.

“We’re supposed to meet our friends tonight. There could be a reservation for eight under the name of Hanlon?” Y/N guesses. “Mike Hanlon?”

The waitress nods. “Come with me.” She tells her and Y/N looks over her shoulder to wave at Stanley and Eddie. They understand her message and all three start following the waitress.

She leads them to a room just around the corner which has a big table in the middle of it, fish tanks around it and two people already standing beside the table. Well, that is Mike, and the other man must be…

“Bill!” Y/N cheers. She can’t keep her excitement to herself and she walks over to the grown man without a stutter. Bill Denbrough turns around to greet the happy face of Y/N and can only hug her back when she embraces him.

Bill was the first Loser she became friends with, and they clicked right off the first moment. They were almost as close as Y/N was with Stanley, but not quite the same. Bill smiles. “Y/N.” He finally says. “So good to see you. And Stanley! Eddie!” Y/N succeeds to grant Bill a kiss on the cheek before he runs to his other friends. And she turns to Mike Hanlon.

“Hi, Mikey.” Y/N greets him, and Mike smiles at her before they both embrace.

“Y/N. I’m glad you came.” He says to her, holding her tight. “Was afraid you wouldn’t.” Y/N sighs at that. She wasn’t, either. She closes her eyes and pulls herself back. She gives Mike a smile.

“I had to come back.” She tells him. “I remember everything now, Mike. And I had to come back.” She nods, and Mike responds with the same gesture.

“I thank you for it. I know it’s not easy.” Mike says. Y/N nods. It’s certainly hard. She feels a lot of things coming back all the time, and when she felt like she remembers everything there is to, more comes back. Including her feelings for Stanley. It’s hard to even look at him now that they’re back, hard to talk to him.

They sat down at the table once Richie, Ben and Beverly arrived. Y/N was between Eddie and Stanley, Richie sat next to Stanley and Beverly, Bill next to Mike and Beverly, and Ben between Mike and Eddie. Y/N felt at peace finally, now that she was with her childhood best friends. She could smile and laugh freely, she could drink as much as she wanted to, eat as much as she wanted to, say anything she wanted to when she wanted to. No judgement from any of the people around her.

The Losers Club recounted memories shared, recalled people they used to know, guessed where they were now. They told each other what had happened in their lives during the twenty-seven year pause. And what good lives they are all leading.

Ben’s on top of the world with his architecture, Beverly has become a fashion designer, Richie is a famous comedian, Bill is a writer. Eddie drives famous people around, Mike has spent all this time researching the history of Derry and of IT–and done a great job of it, too–, and Stanley has an accountancy business to his own name. Well, that’s as far as career.

None of the Losers would willingly uncover how un-great their personal lives are and have been since the incident in 1989. They each know the others’ weaknesses, but they have yet to remember them and realise exactly what is wrong in their friends’ lives. There’s a door they have to unlock in their memory files.

The door in Y/N’s mind is opened a slit already. She feels exactly like a teenager. The way she did all those years ago. She’s completely sure her feelings for Stanley have come back. She loves what they feel like. But God, it’s wrong. Y/N noticed the wedding ring on his left hand. Stanley’s married. And Y/N’s feelings are wrong. But oh, how she hopes that he feels the same now.

He does, and it feels strange. But the feelings are familiar. They feel like home. Y/N feels like home to him. He was stealing glances at her through the whole dinner. Stanley wanted to see what had changed, what her smile was like now. If her eyes gleam the way they used to when she talks about something she likes. Or, rather, he was testing himself to see if he can actually take his eyes off Y/N. He can’t.

She returned these longing stares once in a while. Y/N was inquiring something with her eyes only. There was a question she didn’t want to ask out loud. Stanley’s responsive hazy look lets her know that the answer is ‘yes’. He knew what she was asking.

It was dangerous to even think of the question, and its answer. The situation they were in, Stanley’s relationship status, their friends’ company. If they could be alone… Y/N’s afraid to think of what would happen if they were. But she’d love nothing more.

Y/N knew of Mike’s true intention of calling his old friends back to their hometown. So she wasn’t as surprised and pissed off as her friends were. Neither was Stanley. He was scared, yes, terrified more than he had ever been, but he knows of what he was afraid, and he knows they have to do what they promised to.

Neither of them were cowards, and they were on Mike’s side of the situation. Y/N tried to convince Richie and Eddie, and Ben and Beverly, too, tried to convince them to stay. But they went back to the hotel, anyway. Richie and Eddie were scared shitless, she understood that. But they need to take action.

When Stanley felt his horrid fear again, he grabbed onto the closest thing next to him. That was Y/N’s right hand. She glanced down at it, and then their eyes met, but Stanley didn’t withdraw. And she didn’t want him to.

Stanley told Mike and Bill he was going back to the hotel to get the Losers back on track, get their minds straight. So they can all work like a team. So that they can all stay and finish the demon clown once and for all. Y/N told him she’ll go with him and got her bag out of her own car.

They got into Stanley’s car and silence surrounded them instantly. Silence full of tension and things longing to be said out-loud. They looked at each other and sighed a deep breath. There’s a conversation going back and forth between their eyes. Frantic, quick, questioning, afraid, doubtful. Neither of them are certain of anything. But they know of one thing. They go back to the hotel and clear everything out. Everything.


	3. take it in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Losers spend the night at the Derry Inn. Reader and Stanley act on their resurfaced, forgotten feelings the best and quickest they know how.  
> warnings: NSFW, crying.

The Losers Club are a mess, that is certain. Only Y/N and Stanley seem to hold a clear sight and a clear mind out of all eight of them. But, they were just as emotional. And in a panic, too. None of them want to die, they’re scared of death, their survival instinct is stronger than ever. As much as they can delay the possibility of them dying, they will do it.

Y/N holds Beverly’s shaking shoulders as puffs of smoke surround them both now. Beverly’s crying as she tells her friends what kind of fate awaits them all if they don’t stop IT now, in this cycle. She claimed to have seen all her friends die horribly, and it scared Y/N and her both. She had forgot these sort-of predicaments until now, and Y/N wondered how scared Beverly must be having these images she saw twenty-seven years ago in her mind again.

There is also a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. It belongs to Stanley. A comforting gesture, just like her hands are on Beverly, to give her comfort. But there is a difference in Stanley’s hold. There’s sort of an electricity in it. One that’s bound to be released. And they both know when it’s gonna be.

When they look at each other, Y/N having to look from below Stanley due to where she was sitting, they can’t seem to look away. Stanley’s eyes are magnetic and pulling her towards him. Y/N’s are inviting, daring and challenging, almost, challenging him to do what he’s afraid to. One of the many things on that list. She’s asking him to risk everything. And he wants to say yes.

Stanley’s a little sceptical of how Bill looks. The man looks dazed, almost drugged. Stanley looks to Mike and he has got a pleased look on his face. The look of achievement. Stanley realises he’s convinced Bill with some hallucinogenics. God, they’re truly a mess. What lengths does Mike have to go to convince his scared friends. It seems silly that he has to do what he’s done. They’re his best friends, after all.

Richie and Eddie are ready to leave any second, but Bill convinces them to stay. With great effort, though, the two are set on leaving this exact second and from Stanley’s memories, both men are very stubborn. But since everyone is adamant to stay except for Eddie and Richie, they realised they have to stay, after all. The Losers Club can’t stop IT if they’re not all together. Richie and Eddie know that well.

Mike goes back to the Library for the night, making a deal with his friends that they’ll meet before sunrise of the next day at the Library. All eight will need a normal night of sleep before their journey. Journey back to the past to protect the future. But how can they sleep? How can they be at peace, thinking of what would await them.

Insomnia tortures Richie, so he goes into Eddie’s room to see if Eddie’s awake, too. He is, and Richie’s sudden presence scares him a little. They stay up, talking to each other while they play cards, their voices soft. Sometimes their voices die down, sometimes they get higher and sometimes even louder.

Beverly found solace in being awake by going to Bill. They also stayed awake together, talking from time to time. Mostly about memories of Derry and each other. Some things almost lead to other things, almost. Tension is definitely thick in the air in Bill’s room once Beverly came in.

Ben, as always, is alone. He thinks he’s always going to be alone, and is now used to it already. He is his own best friend. He’s never felt lonely in his life, but when he knows Beverly is in Bill’s room, Ben Hanscom feels like the loneliest man in the world. He pulls out the folded page he’s kept in his wallet for years, and looks at it. The light from the street lamp shines through the window and onto the page, making it easier for Ben to read what it says, for the hundredth time. He sighs.

The instant Stanley’s room door was closed, they were on each other. All over each other, breathing and taking in one another. Remembering how the other felt, what they liked, how to please the other. They’re re-discovering each other, how they were together, how they felt in moments of heat.

Y/N and Stanley are tearing at each other’s clothes and skins and lips and hair, they’re mad together. They’re mad to spend every second of the night together, spend the time given to them wisely. Who knows what the sunrise and morning will bring? Who knows what the next day will bring to them? Not one moment must be wasted.

They don’t need sleep, they don’t need rest. They don’t need anything except each other. And the high they got off the other. The pair could do with only that to survive the rest of their lives.

Y/N can’t remember Stanley ever being so bold, so brutal in making love. Sure, they’d done it a few times until he had to leave after high school. But no time was ever as vile and as desperate as this. And she loved it. There were no words, no questions, no hesitation. There was only missed-out love and desperation.

The pair hadn’t even undressed completely when Stanley entered Y/N with his cock full of desire. Her head fell against the poor thin hotel door and she screamed. Stanley grunted and tilted her head back in its previous place. So she’d be facing him.

Stanley kept his eyes locked on Y/N while he thrusted into her and she whined and moaned, as well as he kept his hands on her hips. Her hands were taking turns roaming and squeezing his back and the back of his neck, and she tried her best to keep their eye contact. But it was hard. And, damn, Stanley was so hard. Y/N felt like she would die then and there from it, even without going back to Neibolt.

It would be hard not to hear them screwing like complete animals if you were standing at the hotel’s entrance. Ben was sure Y/N and Stanley could be heard all over town. Eddie and Richie used the hotel-given ear plugs - with their disadvantages -, and Bill and Beverly decided they should split and spend the rest of the time remaining in their own separate rooms.

But when Y/N and Stanley reached their orgasms, my God, what their friends heard before wasn’t even close to being as loud as that was. They had never imagined that Stanley and Y/N, the most shy people from them eight, would be this loud during sex. But Beverly guessed there wasn’t just pleasure in those screams. There was terror and desperation, there was hope and praying to a higher power. And she had guessed right.

Y/N stayed held against the door by Stanley. They needed a little while to regain themselves, their breaths, their ever-so-clear minds. Well, their minds were hazy with a thick fog, and would be for a while, and there was no escaping it. An amnesia-like fog that made them ignorant to everything else except the other and the other’s touch, and their love. It was love, both of them were sure. It had returned, and it’s stronger than ever.

Stanley, now with a bit of a clearer mind, pulled Y/N against his chest and carried her to the hotel bed. He undressed her slowly, completely, and kissed every aching and non-aching part of her skin tenderly. And it made Y/N cry.

She was crying because she now felt what she had missed all her life. Who she had missed, and what he would have given her if they had never separated. What they could have had together, what they could have felt together. How their lives would be much, much better if only they had never parted.

Each kiss he gave her was worth two tears from her. And when Stanley realised she wasn’t in fact moaning or whimpering, but that she was crying, he kissed her tears, which meant kissing her cheeks, her lips, her neck, her hair. And he kissed every part. Which only made her cry more.

She cried about the time they had missed, the opportunities left unused, the kisses given to strangers. Everything they could have had.

Stanley held her and, as they both lay there, now completely bare and exposed to the cold, horrible hotel air that reeked of sterilisation, looked in her eyes. He softly pet her hair and held the hand of hers that lay between them on the bed with his other hand. And they kept their eye contact strong, they were sure they didn’t blink once.

Even as teenagers, they could stare into each other’s eyes for hours without getting bored or getting distracted. They could do nothing else but that. Not many people can. But it was one of their… things. And it was still strong now, almost three decades later.

The moon and the street lamps shone onto the two lovers in the hotel room, to someone’s eyes they’d look like a perfect painting in this light. These two lovers in a perfectly-made bed that was hardly touched. They were surrounded by the smell fo sex, the sound of sobs, the glistening of tears and sweat. By the words they want to say to each other, the longing and what-ifs that they want to voice. But they don’t want to ruin this perfect moment, and the next, and the next. Y/N and Stanley want to cherish this complete silence and calm, before the storm hits them and hits this perfect atmosphere.


	4. our songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley has to face the truth he hasn't yet told Reader, hasn't told anyone. His heart is too heavy to carry this secret, so he tells it to the person he trusts most. The news hits Reader hard, and downs some of her thoughts. But the two cherish the possible last night they might have together.  
> warnings: talks of suicide

The night is peaceful. At least it sounds peaceful. No loud cars driving by, no loud hotel residents. Well, the ones who were loud are quiet now. And they enjoy the silence themselves. A small town such as Derry and its quiet is something they hadn’t realised they both were missing. It allowed you to actually like being awake during the night if you couldn’t sleep. Well, most times.

Their friends went to sleep eventually. But it isn’t for long, the clock is ticking and the sun’s going to rise in a few hours. Y/N and Stanley figure they could wash up and get two or three hours of sleep at least. They’d need the energy, after all. The mental and the physical one.

Stanley stares at the hotel bath. His eyes are fixed onto it, but his mind drifts back to the previous night. It doesn’t look like a bath anymore. Something else, though. It’s a beacon for all things bad and hopeless now. It’s a hole. A literal hole that sucks in all his hope and makes him a completely different person.

He gave his shirt to Y/N as a coverage for the few minutes until the bath. Stanley himself has only his underwear on. His hair isn’t sticking to his forehead anymore, the sweat on his skin has dried. And his eyes are frozen on the bathtub as he leans against the doorframe. He holds his hands together.

Y/N’s hand touches Stanley’s shoulder. But he doesn’t even look at her. He keeps thinking. What would his friends do if he really had taken himself off the board? How would they feel? How would they sit, all seven of them, at the table in the restaurant? How would Y/N feel? What would she do?

That thought brings him to look at her. Into her eyes. Her beautiful eyes. His hand graces her cheek and she leans in, but she wonders why he’s so… Far away. So suddenly. Where has he gone? What is he thinking about?

“What is it, Stanley?” Y/N whispers. She turns his body towards her, her arms soft and caring around his torso. His head points downwards and Stanley’s eyes fall to look at both their bare feet. They’re still different in size as they were before. His are bigger than hers, looking a bit like a giant’s pair of feet next to her small ones.

“I–I can’t.” Stanley manages to say. “The bath… The bath.” At first, he says the word questioningly. But then he says it as if he’s sure of something. Sure of that he can’t take a bath. He can’t take a bath ever again.

Y/N takes his hands and leads Stanley back to the double bed, helping him sit down. She folds her left leg underneath herself and looks at Stanley, awaiting. “What’s wrong with the bath?” She asks softly. And Stanley breaks down in tears. Y/N only hears sobs and wheezes from the man who’s holding his head in his hands.

She immediately puts her arms around Stanley’s shoulders, gripping him tight with her small hands. She doesn’t want him to cry. Y/N doesn’t want him to be any more sad than they both already are. But something’s upset him, and she waits for him to tell her what exactly. She knows that he will tell her, having gone through this already when they were both young.

After IT first attacked Stanley. It happened just like now. They’re both sitting on a bed, connected through touches, and Y/N listening to Stanley.

“When Mi-Mike called, I… I was so scared.” Stanley starts to tell her in hiccuped whispers. “I remembered everything. I was… I was… I was laying in the bath. There was a… razor. We had some b-blades in the cupboard, j-just in case…”

Y/N’s eyes fill with tears. She realises what Stanley had in mind. What he intended to do last night. Oh, dear God, no. No, no, no, no. She feels hurt.

She can’t help her sobs now, but she still tries to comfort him with her hold. Both their shoulders shake terribly as the pair cry. “S-Stan…” She whines his name. Y/N can’t place the question she wants to ask him. There’s too many questions. How, why, what for… Who for, even. Why didn’t you…?

She grips his face between her hands, squishing his wet cheeks and wanting most of all to wipe that wetness off. Wishing it was never there. Y/N’s faced with Stanley’s brown eyes full of sorrow. They’re like dark chocolate pools.

Y/N’s getting a huge wave of deja-vu from holding him like this, looking at him like this. But Stanley’s eyes look different than the last time they were like this. His whole expression is different. There’s sadness, yes, and fear, but there’s also… Guilt. Regret. The word ‘sorry’ written widely across his features.

“But I… But I…” Stanley starts to talk again, and tries to bring his sobs to a stop, “but I didn’t. I didn’t do it.” He says, almost trying to convince someone, and then grabs a hold of Y/N’s wrists. It petrifies her, and she gasps suddenly. “Because you called me. You… You–Your voice… Hearing you again, I just… I couldn’t.” Stanley shakes his head. He’s panicking. Y/N lets out a sharp breath. “You mean… so much to me.” Stanley’s voice breaks in the middle of his sentence. “And God, I wish I’d never forgotten you.”

Y/N lets go of Stanley’s face. Her hands fall into her lap, as does her glare. “I–I never…” She gulps. “I never wanted to think of you… gone.” Dead. She can’t say that horrible word. “But I was afraid. Anything could have happened to you.”

Stanley shakes his head again. “Don’t think about that. Please.” Stanley pleads, desperately trying to get Y/N to look at him. “We’re both here now. And I… I have you to thank for being here. Remembering you… it was what I needed to… live on, I guess.” He admits. “I wish I’d never forgotten you.” He repeats, whispering.

Y/N gulps, trying to swallow her tears and sobs. She finally looks into Stanley’s eyes. But then she looks away, and even shuffles away from him. She needs a moment to herself, to compose herself. Stanley waits for her next action. He’s patient with her feelings.

Y/N has so much to feel, she has so much to think, so much to say. It’s all too much. She doesn’t know where to start. All these years… Everything they hold she has stuck in her throat. All the feelings, the nostalgia, the memories she thought were dreams. Before Mike Hanlon called.

“Me too.” She starts with returning Stanley’s feelings for her. “Since last night, I’ve been thinking of how different our lives would be if we never parted.” Y/N shakes her head. “It breaks… me to think about that.” She looks at Stanley. “Thinking of how happy we’d be. How… there’d be so much you could have given me.” Her eyes and whole expression are so intense, perfectly showing what she feels. And it’s a lot. Y/N shakes her head. Her teeth bite her lip hard, almost drawing out blood.

Stanley nods. “I would have given you everything.” He tells her. “The moon and stars, if you’d ask.” There’s a soft smile on his face as he remembers it’s something he told her when they were kids. Y/N chuckles.

“I remember that.” She tells him, nodding. “And I believe you.” Her head falls into her hands. “We’ve lost so much time… Who knows how much we have left now.” She exhales and throws her hands by her sides, looking up to focus on the ceiling. There’s shadows cast onto it by the light outside and the curtain texture.

Another tear rolls down Stanley’s round cheek. He nods, agreeing again, and moves closer to Y/N on the bed. He offers her now only a hug and a kiss to her temple, pushing her hair back slightly. Y/N closes her eyes and sighs. Although she’s in intense distress and grief, she feels safe in Stanley’s embrace now.

She knows this is where she’s meant to be all her life. In Stanley’s arms with his lips against her skin, his heartbeat next to her ear and his love the only thing she can feel, the only thing she can think of. She only needs Stanley and his love. Anything else she could easily survive without. Y/N doesn’t know how she’s managed to live twenty-seven years without him. It seems almost… A dream now. Just like meeting and talking to Stanley seemed when she was waiting for him to answer her call.

Stanley feels at peace now. Finally. No shaky hands or rigid eyes that constantly bolt from corner to corner in fear of seeing something that shouldn’t be there. No fast heartbeat without a reason. He closes his eyes and without noticing, inhales the aroma of her. It’s still the same, same as it was even when she was younger. Of course, sweat adds to the mix, but he pays no mind to that. It’s her. It’s her, she’s here and she’s real. I must be dreaming.

Y/N eventually convinced Stanley to join her for a shower in the tub. At least a shower. They stood with their feet on the tub’s bottom, facing each other. Those ten or so minutes felt so long. They’d lost all track of time. Time practically didn’t exist in their hotel room, and it felt great. For once, to feel like they’re not losing time or losing each other.

Since Y/N had her bag with her when she got in Stanley’s car, she could change out of his shirt and into her actual pyjamas. They were short shorts, like the ones Eddie and Richie used to wear during summer, and a big, out-worn sweater. Her pyjamas looked like a matching set to Stanley, the colors were so similar he saw them as one. Baby blue. But they weren’t a set. They were clothes Y/N had bought seperately, and actually, at second-hand shops.

She loved those. Even as a kid, she liked them much more than regular stores. And she couldn’t understand why others preferred the mall shops, or why kids at school would pick on Beverly for having second-hand clothing.

Stanley settled for his own pyjamas. They, compared to Y/N’s, were a store-bought set. A stripy white and blue set, long sleeves, buttons and even pockets. Real classy, Y/N had told him without a hint of irony. She wouldn’t have expected Stanley Uris wearing anything else to bed. He had similar pyjamas when he was a kid, they were only a darker shade of blue and had thicker white stripes. Well, yeah, they’d look quite different, the two sets, if you put them side by side, but they’re both still in Stanley’s pyjama fashion taste.

3:47am, the clock shows. Light is bound to rise in a little over an hour and color the skies pink and orange. A sight Y/N can’t wait to see again in her hometown. She has seen many sunrises throughout her childhood here, and all she loved seeing. But this one she waits for with dread, even though she doesn’t want it to be that way. Everything will be fine.

“I’ve been remembering our song.” Stanley whispers to Y/N. She grins. They’re laying next to each other, again, now their heads are on the hotel-given pillows and they’re wrapped in the white sheets up to their waists.

“Which one?” She asks. She knows they had many “their songs”, and Stanley remembers that now. His eyebrows furrow, but he smiles, too.

“Heaven.” He says. “By Bryan Adams. Do you remember?” He makes sure. Y/N nods. Stanley smiles. “We used to turn the volume all the way up whenever it was on the radio.”

“And shout the lyrics out loud.” Y/N says. “We didn’t care who was around.” She makes a face for a second, which Stanley laughs at. She can almost see the scene they’re talking about. Either they were sitting by the Quarry or in the Clubhouse. They got on their friends’ nerves quite often with all “their songs”.

“I don’t think we really understood the words he sang back then.” Stanley admits.

“Maybe we just knew what the song was about,” Y/N suggests, “and knew that we would have it later, when we grew up.” She says. Stanley shrugs. They’ve both turned to lay on their backs now, facing the ceilings. “I think now the words are much more fitting.”

“Yeah.” He says. “Oh, thinking about all our younger years.” He sings quietly and Y/N giggles. “It was only you and me...”

She laughs again. “But not always.” She opposes. Stanley laughs. “Now it is, though.” She whispers. Y/N looks over at him. Stanley’s looking back. Both smile, but their emotions are sad, too. Sappy. That could be the title of a movie about them, about their lives.

They want to lean in towards each other, kiss each other again. Be within each other. They want to say “I love you” to each other, and Stanley almost does. But Y/N quickly faces the ceiling again. Her eyes go wide for a second, but she doesn’t want Stanley to see that. Stanley frowns, quite visibly, with his whole body. Even his hands withdraw.

“You have a wife, Stanley.” She whispers, as if it’s a secret, as if the words are not allowed to be said. If Richie was with them, he’d probably say something like “how do you know it’s not a husband?”. His humor never wavers.

Stanley sighs and closes his eyes. He never wanted this moment to come, those words to be said. Especially by her.

He loves his wife, but he… He doesn’t just love Y/N. Stanley needs her, he wants her, he’s realised he can’t live without her. All these years he’s lived with Patty… Gosh, he will hate to break her heart. Stanley’s not the kind of person to do so.

But Y/N is so different. The love and feelings he has for her are so different, they’re completely something else from his love for Patty. He can’t choose between the two. Stanley can’t even think about choosing right now, when he doesn’t know if he’ll even be alive after tomorrow.

“That doesn’t change the fact…” Stanley can’t even finish one of the many sentences he wants to say, “It doesn’t change what happened. What we were. How we felt and… How we feel now.” He turns back to Y/N. His eyes are begging. For what? Hope? Understanding? She has both, especially for him.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N suddenly says and masks her face with her hands. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” She feels that she’s ruined their perfect, infinite moment. It will never again be repeated.

Stanley looks at her panicking frame for a few seconds, but puts his hand on her wrists. With his big one, he can manage to hold both her wrists in only one of his. “It’s okay, baby.” He soothes her. “It’s the truth.”

“I’m sorry.” She apologises again. “You probably don’t want to think about it now. I’m sorry.”

“Baby, it’s alright.” Stanley tells her. “You’re right, and let’s not think about it now. We don’t even know what will happen tomorrow. Don’t blame yourself, okay?” He begs her quietly. She can’t put put herself down. Not now, not ever.

Y/N nods and takes her hands off her face, slowly facing Stanley again. She turns towards him with her whole body. She wants to ask about what will happen to them after tomorrow. Y/N wants to know what Stanley thinks of what would become of this. But they’ll see. She doesn’t need to ask him these questions now. He might not even have the answers to her questions now. And he doesn’t need to.

They have to stop thinking about what will happen. They have to stop jumping into the future and return to their little moment, the few little hours together. The hour they can still enjoy together, just the two of them.

“We’ll be fine.” Stanley tells her, and slides his arm under her head so that he can pull her closer by her shoulders. Y/N lets him and ducks her head under Stanley’s chin, resting it on his chest. “We’ll all be fine.”

Y/N cries, but quietly. She’s trying not to make another scene. She’s already brought Stanley down, made him more sad, and she didn’t want to. Their whole situation is horrible. Y/N wishes they’d never have to be here. Facing anxieties and fears, facing difficult choices.

“You know, Stanley, I… I love you,” Y/N tells him in a terrified whisper, “I love you more than anything.” She’s terrified to actually say these words. What if he doesn’t love her? What if… God, I’ve gotta stop it with these “what-ifs”, they’re ruining everything.

Stanley takes her words in, spending a few seconds on it. His silence scares Y/N and the what-ifs invade her mind again because of it. They’re big words to say. For two people like them.

“I love you, too.” Stanley answers her. “Baby, I love you so, so, so much.” He puts emphasis on his last words. She needs to really hear them. He knows she doubts herself still, and doubts others, but he wants this to be the one thing she can be sure about for the rest of her life. No matter how long it turns out to be.

Stanley hugs Y/N closer and shuts his eyes. He doesn’t feel tired at all, but his eyes willingly shut due to the calm he feels. The peace inside his heart and soul that Y/N’s company gives him. Y/N’s already asleep when he slips off into dreamland.

“At least we have this.” Y/N whispers in the dark night. They’re both in deep slumbers, and she’s likely dreaming. But she’s telling the truth.


	5. derry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Losers begin their quest to kill IT, and it starts with a groggy morning and venture through their old hometown.

Loud knocks bolt Y/N right out of her dreams and straight up in her bed. She’s panting, her eyes on the door. She’s trying to figure out who’s pounding on the door, and she’s scared to find it out. The clock shows it’s twenty minutes past four in the morning. Stanley’s still asleep next to her under the covers, and despite that the sight of him sleeping make her heart warm, she’s terrified to see what’s behind the door. They’re in Derry, after all.

Y/N stands up and takes the few steps to the door. Her hand hesitantly reaches forward to twist open the door. She’s almost freezing at her own theories of what could be behind that door. The most obvious truth has slipped her mind. It only shows how scard she actually is.

She’s met with the anxious and disheveled face of Richie Tozier. Her shoulders slump immediately upon realising he’s been pounding on her door. Nothing dangerous or otherwise terrifying, just good ol’ Richie. The rest of her friends are lingering on the staircase behind him.

“What the–Did you just wake up?” He asks quite angrily. He notices the woman isn’t wearing regular clothes, she’s in pyjamas. Y/N sighs.

“Yes, bonjour, you woke me up.” She tells Richie.

“We’re supposed to be going, so get both your asses up and let’s go!” Richie urges her. He turns to his left and starts going down the stairs after his friends.

“Give us five minutes.” She says to Richie as loud as she can. 

Y/N yawns and closes the door. Stanley woke up from Richie’s shouting and is currently trying to rise from the bed. He searches for his glasses that he left on the nightstand, and finds them, almost crushing the pair with his delicate hand. He puts the glasses on once he’s sat up.

Y/N walks around the bed and sits down next to him, smiling to herself. She gives a kiss to his cheek and squeezes his hand. “Good morning.”

Stanley grumbles something in response, and misunderstanding it makes Y/N laugh. His head falls into her neck, still longing to be in bed with her, asleep at best. His curls tickle her skin. Y/N runs a hand through his hair and presses another kiss, now to his forehead.

“We gotta go downstairs.” She tells him and withdraws, drawing a deep breath in. She looks out of the window. The sky has changed to a rosy yellow color, Y/N can see the colors through the curtains. The sun will rise shortly.

“I figured.” Stanley responds. The two share a quiet morning chuckle, after which Y/N rises from their bed in search of her bag. She takes out a pair of jeans and decides to keep wearing the jumper she slept in. She doesn’t have time to decide between her brought sweaters and tops.

She gets changed rather quickly while Stanley is a bit slower. He has to push every button through its assigned slot of his white shirt, and while you’re half asleep, it does take a while. 

White isn’t the most practical color in terms of his plans and places to go today, but Stanley doesn’t care. He’ll get another if the shirt is ruined. Besides, Y/N digs white button-ups on him.

Y/N’s tying her shoes. Stanley chooses between the things to take with him and the things to leave in this hotel room to which he’d hopefully return to. He leaves his phone, he takes his watch. He looks at his ring that decorates his left hand’s finger.

Patty. No. He doesn’t want any trace of her involved in this horror adventure. He doesn’t want their promises to each other, their love, a piece of Patty going where he is. He’d never wish the woman pain. Stanley must leave her behind. Today or forever? Shut up.

Stanley takes off his ring and puts it on the nightstand. He places the gold thing neatly next to the lamp, hides it a little. Maybe he should put it in the drawer? No, who’d steal a marriage ring? Well, people in Derry, even the hotel maids, can be theifs. He settles for the nightstand’s drawer, taking the side of his relentless nerves, and puts the ring in the closest corner, where the eye of a usual person wouldn’t notice a ring laying.

Standing at the door before closing it, Stanley’s eyes wonder over the room and their belongings, and the now-made and previously-messy bed. He huffs. What a wonderful night was last night, he thinks to himself. He’s happy it happened. He’s sad it’s over. Stanley doesn’t know whether he’ll have a night like this again. He doesn’t know a lot of things yet, and that’s final. He shuts the door. He and Y/N head downstairs.

Morning’s still as grim as the night. The Losers head for the Town Library to meet Mike. They don’t know what they’re supposed to do for the mentioned ritual of Chud, or where to start, but Mike certainly has an idea or two about that. He’s turned into a sort of leader now.

Y/N and Stanley walk side by side in the middle of the group. Their fingers reaching for the other to hold on to. When the digits touch, they blush. They lock hands finally, and they keep on walking.

“Thanks a lot for letting us sleep tonight, guys.” Richie says in a groggy voice, and then clears his throat. Bill and Ben laugh, and Beverly eyes Y/N and Stanley with mischief in her eyes.

“Yeah, you two were real helpful. It’s not like I’d sleep, anyway.” Eddie adds on. Y/N rolls her eyes and leans her head towards Stanley’s shoulder. They better suffer in silence, any other comment might get them more embarrassment from their friends.

“We all have different methods of coping.” Bill states, looking over at Y/N and Stanley, and his comment makes the Losers snicker.

“At least we’re getting some.” Stanley does speak up, and it earns loud laughter from Beverly and Ben.

“Yeah, compared to you, Trashmouth.” Y/N adds, and when Richie looks at her, sticks out her tongue at him. He does the same, accompanied with a scowl.

“I bet Stan got to see a lot more than that last night.” Richie says to her in a whispered shout.

“You bet your fur.” Stanley tells Richie after over-hearing the comment, nodding.

“Things you could only dream of.” Y/N narrows her eyes at Richie. He gives her a wide, sarcastic smile and turns back to look at the street ahead.

Their hometown is silent. No one’s up this early in Derry. Except, only, for evil. Evil is always there, probably has been since the very start of Derry. It creeps on you from every corner. Evil here haunts you, feeds on your fear and unhappiness in life. And it likes the kids. 

A woman with a little girl at her hand walk on the other side of the street, across the Losers. Looks like they’re heading to church or to a school event, but it still seems too early. They don’t want to be late to a state-wide bus, perhaps?

They’re both dressed in cute dresses and the woman holds a bag. The girl’s hair is braided and her mother’s is up in a bun. Such little intricate details haven’t stopped being the characteristics of the people in Derry.

Girls almost always had braids, no matter what color their hair was and no matter what time of year it was. Until they were out of their parents houses, girls wore braids of all kinds. Teachers, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, cashiers, on the other hand–they all had their hair twisted into a bun. Some sort of silent solidarity between people sharing the same age.

Y/N wonders if this little girl might be a potential victim of the source of evil here, in this cycle. She hopes to God she’s not, but what would happen if she… What would she see? Would her fears be the same terrible, psychological struggles Y/N and her friends saw as kids? They’d surely see the same things today, no doubt. What would scare this little girl in this decade? Have things changed? How would she…

She doesn’t allow herself to finish that question. Y/N almost sheds a tear thinking about it. So Y/N looks away from the girl, turning her head physically and mentally away from the thoughts the scene brings. She looks back into the worried eyes of Stanley. But they’re not only worried. They’re full of guilt, still.

He’s still thinking about the night before. How… How she must have felt, how his confession made her feel. God, it must have scared her to death. No one should ever hear news such as “I wanted to take my life, but I didn’t. Only because of you.” His words must have broken Y/N in half. Her heart, her mind, her soul.

Stanley doesn’t mean to cause her any pain, but he did right to tell her. He couldn’t live with himself if he hadn’t told her, she deserves to know. And Stanley hopes, no, he knows that she’ll keep it between them both. He doesn’t want his friends to know yet. And maybe not ever. They don’t need to live with that sort of knowledge.

His eyes go over his group of friends for one of the first times that day. What a wonderful bunch are they. Stanley’s missed them, he’s missed them so much. Even with the memories of them having the most nerve-wracking traits and making him go where he really didn’t want to, they’re his best friends.

Neibolt house.

Stanley dreads going back to that place and wants most of all not to. But he knows that eventually, he’d have to. They, as a group and a whole, would have to. Neibolt is where they can defeat IT, where they did defeat IT once. A place IT can be made weak. Stanley would find he’s best at doing that. He may not look it from the outside or even to his friends, but… He’s the bravest.

The sun has risen when they meet Mike, and morning comes in time with Mike exiting the Town Library. The Losers, now all together, make their way to the other end of Derry, going completely in a different direction from which they came from. This might be a small town, but you could get lost here. Y/N fears where Mike is taking them now, but again, she fears every step she takes in the premises of her hometown.

She can’t stop wishing to be away from here. All she wants is to be with Stanley and make every second count. Y/N wants to stop being afraid, she wants her fears gone. She wants to live a free life, a happy life. Most of all, with the person she loves most. If that’s even possible now…

But, Y/N realises, she’ll need the help of her friends to fulfill her wishes. If they succeed in getting rid of IT once and for all, not only hers, but all their wishes would come true. All their dreams would come true, and to-do lists would be checked completely.

So she must. Y/N must get herself together, scramble up every little bit of courage she has, and face what she’s forgot for twenty-seven years.


	6. revisiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader does the same as her friends - goes looking for her token alone, which includes seeing something she has grown used to not seeing.  
> Warnings: IT, panic attack, anxiety, fears, descriptions of suicide.

The Derry Woods were always a sort of dual place for Y/N, both good and bad things she associates with that place. Well, you could say each patch and spot and tree and clearing were different from each other. A tree with particularly long, thick and out-grown roots was worse than a regular tree with its roots kept hidden under the bed of earth. More bushy parts of the forest or perhaps meadows with longer grass and an uneasier bedding created more anxiety than regular-height grass meadows or paths with no bushes.

Nobody knew why these particular spots made Y/N uneasy and even kind of stoic, none of her friends knew, except for Stanley. But they were still ready to help her, ready to comfort her and get her back on her feet. Though Stanley was the first one ever who heard of her fear. In fact, she told him of the horrid incident the day right after it happened.

She had first met IT when she was heading back home one cloudy spring day. And it wasn’t pleasant, no, not at all. Y/N felt completely frozen, for the second time in her life, and it was not the last time. The feeling was as if she’d never run, as if she’d never walk again, as if she’d never move at all. And she hated it. She wanted that feeling gone. She just wanted to run from it.

Stanley Uris was the only person that she confided in about this fear. He’d hold her hand while they all, the Losers Club, would walk through the woods. If she would stumble over a particular fallen branch or a chump of earth, she’d take a gasped breath and Stanley would simply feel the anxiety and fear through her fingertips. And he’d grip her hand tight, as well as support her so Y/N wouldn’t fall down and actually have one of the panic attacks falling over her feet would give her. 

Now she, the adult Y/N, would probably have to face this fear again. Alone, this time. It would be just like the first time, but she can’t remember that yet. She can’t connect these two dots right now, the dread of having to face the one thing she’s avoided her whole life is too big to think about connecting this mission to a past event.

Before Stanley leaves the woods to go on his own solitary mission, Y/N gives him a fearful look. He’s the last to leave her there, their friends care as much, but they decided not to waste any time. They want this to be over and done with as quickly as possible. But it’s a little different for Y/N and Stanley.

Yes, the worst thing they could imagine is happening again, and they’re at the worst place on earth, again. But they’re also with each other again, and they want this time together to last. Neither of them can predict how long this will last, how long their lives will last, and they do try to cherish every second of time while they still have it.

He holds her hand while they look at each other. Y/N tries not to squeeze Stanley’s hand too much, she knows she can’t hold on forever. They have tokens to find, a monster to destroy, fears to relive. It hurts, the truth hurts. But she mustn’t think about that now. Y/N can’t be selfish. And Stanley can’t, either.

“Think of me,” he tells her, “think of me when you’re scared.” Y/N nods. “And remember that you can run. You can.” He tries to make these words stay in her mind as big reminders. Ones that she needs to hold on to in the darkest moments. Stanley tries to convince her that this isn’t real, a convincing he’d do in person, at the right time, if he could.

Y/N nods again. “And you remember,” She starts saying, “you remember that you’re brave. You’re the strongest man, Stanley, okay?”

She knows what Stanley will see on his own mission. She’s got two pretty good guesses already, and she knows how much either of them would scare him and make him feel frozen, too. Stanley was a very scared kid, probably the most scared of all. That’s not all a bad thing, at least Y/N thought that. Well, she still does. She knows Stanley’s brave, and she knows that he is strong. It’s his fear that sometimes becomes bigger than his own strength, and that makes him think he’s weak.

Stanley takes in her words. He doesn’t believe them fully, at least not yet, but he knows he can trust her with this. She’s the most honest person he’s found.

“I know you’re scared, but you are braver more than you are scared. And think of me, when you need to.” She says to him. She looks down at their hands locked together and puts her other hand over Stanley’s. “Good luck.” She whispers.

Stanley nods again and that’s all Y/N can linger on before she heads back into the forest. She lets go of Stanley’s hand, and he watches her go. He hopes to God this isn’t the last time he sees her. It shouldn’t be, and it certainly doesn’t feel like the last time.

The man sighs quietly, more to himself than to someone, and turns his head to where the road to Derry centre is. He must start his journey to the past. There’s a lot to remember, and some of it the man is actually excited to remember. Many memories with his friends and his girlfriend he’s glad to see again.

Stanley stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets and begins walking back towards Derry centre. More precisely, towards the only synagogue in Derry. He’s always thought of the building as nothing more than beautiful, and it still is. 

A soft summer wind blows through his dark curls and barely touches his face. He recognises this wind, and the feeling of it he got when he was a kid. The wind even has a certain smell. It’s summer, Stanley thinks to himself, the breeze smells of summer and its memories.

Thank God Y/N brought boots with her. She put them in her bag with a natural wave of her hands. As if she’d done it a million times before, as if boots were now as essential to her as running shoes once were. This particular pair were brown boots with not that high a heel and slots for the ribbon they’re tied securely with to slither through. A little girly touch to a simple pair of boots. And Y/N keeps the ribbon either pink or blue, always has. She doesn’t know why these colors exactly.

Derry woods hasn’t been cleaned in a long time, Y/N decides in a few minutes. And the forest feels actually sick, as if the air in it is thick with something… enchanting. She’s had to raise her knees high to step over layers of fallen branches that have laid there for God knows how long. Months, years… Decades, she certainly hopes not. And with every branch, she sighs. With every miss-step, she gasps.

She has every reason to. Walking through these woods brings memories of running marathons here once. A lot of them, until a certain day. She can hear and see herself running only by the wind that’s caressing her face and waving her hair backwards. She sees her own happy, determined face, and then the other kids’ faces that look different from her own, they don’t look as happy. She’d soon have that same look on her face, but she doesn’t remember that yet. Y/N’s yet to remember what made her suddenly look so unhappy.

Running brought her freedom, release. She could run all over the U.S. of A. at once, if she so much as thought of it. Y/N had always had wide lungs that could with-hold long runs and were made for running. Her legs were strong, muscular, also built for running. And her mind was focused, and eyes - trained. She was born for running. Not like it was in the family to run or even be an athlete. Her whole family were writers or somehow involved with literature in other ways. Y/N stood out, but still made her family proud.

She remembers it all now, and is jealous of what she had as a teenager. What would she give to have it all back… The zest to run, her good eyes and mind, her perfect muscled legs and her ready-to-run lungs. Maybe she should give it a try again. Maybe now and here.

No. Perhaps when it’s a necessity. She still doesn’t know what waits for her ahead of these trees, she needs to save her sources. Y/N hasn’t even ran once to catch a bus in… a lot of years. She’s pretty sure the last time she ran was after Stanley had left for college. That day she ran all over town in any direction her eyes found fitting. To get away from her heavy sadness, and the tears.

Y/N sighs. She knows what she’s got to find. It’s an artefact from the last day she ran a marathon. She was only a twelve-year-old girl, and because of one outgrown root, she had lost all her dreams and future smiles in a few minutes’ time. What a tragedy… 

The day Y/N sprained her ankle was the first day she started to feel insecure, started to have insecurities. Her first encounter with anxiety, self-hate, even. First time feeling actual fear. And it all frightened her, shocked her, to feel such things. It’s a door that she opened, a door she never knew of before.

The artefact is a wristband with her participant number on it. She lost it when she fell. The band was put on loosely around her wrist, some volunteer’s carelessness had cost her losing the band when she fell over the root. Ugh, Y/N groans. That’s one of the reasons she hates roots and going on a path she can’t see the bottom of. Not the wristband, but what it symbolised. Now she remembers.

An oak by the side of a bumpy trail had a root growing outwards that spring. Maybe something had changed in the weather, in the planets up in space, in the Derry soil, in its earth, she had many theories. But she never thought it would be caused by a monster. It’s simply an idea that most adults, and even teenagers, would laugh at. A monster.

A monster that could bend their reality, take the form of their fears, a monster that hides in the sewers and eats children for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Not even little Y/N could suspect it back then, and she’s not suspecting now. Mike Hanlon would be, though. He knows all about what IT is and what it can do, Y/N’s sure. But she’s not Mike Hanlon. She’s Y/N, a girl who was scared to death and staring at an oak root.

Her sprained ankle was held tightly by the root, which is also what had caused the spraining. Her foot had mistakenly slipped under the out-grown root, but she wanted to keep running, and thought it was just a mild hiccup in her way. But she was brought down to the ground, the falling and the sudden pain in her leg making her cry. The earth was smeared with her tears, and her cheeks were instead smeared with the earth. No one heard her cry, as loud as she was, or, perhaps, no one cared.

Until the jury and her parents had started to wonder where their usual gold champion–that was promising to bring Olympic gold to Derry, Maine, one day–actually was and why she wasn’t running past the finish line with the usual, big smile on her face. It was someone else instead. So a search began for Y/N, and the whole marathon was put on hold until they found her.

The time in total was an hour or two, but it felt like years for Y/N before they came across her still crying, limp form by the oak above a small stream. Y/N had already decided that the tree roots had captured her, slithered into her and made her wood, too. She was already a wooden doll with no power in her own imaginative mind. She had become the thing she had always feared to be. Someone who couldn’t move, someone who was paralysed.

And maybe it truly was a hand that held her there. A wooden hand that sprained her ankle and held her down, which is why she couldn’t move at all. And maybe it really was a wood monster. One that desired Y/N to be made from wood, just like him, make her one of his wooden minions.

Y/N couldn’t move at all because she was in pain. She’d never felt pain so hurtful, so… long-lasting. It never seized, not even for a second did she feel free from the spraining pain. The girl was exhausted for the first time in her life, she had fallen for the first time, she had sprained her ankle for the first time. Shortly, she had failed for the first time in her twelve-year-old life. And though the realisation hadn’t hit her face-first, as if someone had said it, just like her face had met the ground, the deepest corners of her mind had already collected this information of first-time failure. And they were angry, they were sad. She had disappointed herself. All that sadness had morphed into tears and screams and emotional pain.

The kids who ran over and past her were careless. For the first time, they were faster than Y/N, and had beat her in a marathon. Their delight and self-pride had grown bigger than the urge to help the girl in pain, if there ever was such an urge in their selfish minds. Kids in Derry are monsters, Y/N thought then, and yet she was still confused as to why no one stopped to help her. But she understands now. They were all greedy and selfish people. And that knowledge grew into a moment of anger.

She huffs and takes one more step, and one more, and one more deeper into the forest. Those people don’t matter now. What matters is to find her token and get back to her friends. Better yet, do it quickly. She knows exactly what is lurking in this forest, and she doesn’t want to spend one more second than she has to between these trees, bushes and bumpy trails. Y/N keeps walking.

She starts to recognise every other tree and clearing patch her eyes come across. Some of them are associated with memories clearer and more detailed than others. Playing hide and seek. Though Stanley always hid close to her, behind a tree or in a bush just a few steps from her. She was too afraid to be in the woods alone, and so she wasn’t. Her eyes were always on Stanley while they waited for Richie or Bill to find them.

And Stanley’s were on her. He had kept a careful eye on her ever since she told him about her IT encounter, practically crying to him in the early morning hours. Ever since she started trusting him, and he started trusting her, Stanley took on the job of protecting her. He watched her with such caution you’d think he expected she’d be dragged away from him any second. He still has that look in his eyes when he looks upon her now, grown up.

Y/N remembers the smell. Some horrid smell that, she thought at the time, smelled like all things wrong. Sadness, blood, rotten paper, sickness, death, stale food, old cellars and attics, Henry Bowers, even. That boy definitely reeked of something gross. But this smell seemed bigger, and incredibly stronger. It stayed with her the whole time she layed by the stream, imprisoned by the root. As if something was under the trail or in the stream that possessed this disgusting aroma, and wouldn’t go away. As if it was waiting for the search troop to come, just like little Y/N was.

And suddenly, she sees the stream. She’s wandered far into the woods, and keeps glancing over her shoulder to remember which way to go back. The water stream has gotten smaller, it looks like a single vein in your arm, that’s how much it has shrinked. Back in ‘89, she’d hear it before she’d see the water stream, but now you can barely even see it.

Y/N steps closer to it and glances into the small riverbed. It’s filled with rocks, mud, branches, leaves and all kinds of trash the citizens of Derry leave when they’re too lazy to carry their chip packet or soda bottle to the nearest trash can. Y/N scowls. But upon seeing a certain 7Up bottle, remembers she and her friends once littered, too. Until Stanley made them carry their trash to the trashcan on the road. She smiles at that. Clean little lady, Richie used to call him. Stanley never did like that name.

Her eyes fall upon the god-forsaken oak tree above the stream. It’s still there, and its ugly base, and its ugly roots, and its ugly branches. There are leaves growing from the branches, and they may be beautiful, but in Y/N’s eyes they’re still as ugly and as full of hate as before. She hasn’t seen this branch since that day of heartbreak and pain, and yet she feels everything she felt then. Exactly the same things. As if she had gone back in time.

Y/N takes a deep breath and decides she must go towards the oak. It’s where her wristband will most likely be. Perhaps rotten, old, and maybe even grown through and through with grass or moss. She’d still need to take it with her, as much as she’d hate the ground dirt that would come with it. She walks up the bumpy trail and reaches the oak. Here comes the emotional paralysis!

She does find her old wristband. It’s peaking out from the earth as if someone had put it on display. Y/N glances in all directions to catch a glimpse of someone walking away, even thinking she heard footsteps in the forest bed. Someone who might have put it there for her to take. But there was no one, no feet, no body. She must be starting to go crazy.

The wristband is wet, and a little dirty. But overall, much cleaner and in a much better state than Y/N had expected. Strange, that. So many years have passed, and it really is still here. Some sort of miracle. She checks the number on it to see if it’s really her wristband. Maybe it’d turn out to be a new wristband left by someone who recently ran a marathon.

7249\. Yep, that’s her wristband. Green plastic with white fasteners and the number on it written with a black marker. Y/N sees the marathon volunteer putting it around her wrist with an incredible carelessness. She sees it hanging loosely around her wrist in flashes. She glanced at it while she ran with the surest confidence of winning. She knew she was going to win, this was just another medal or just another trophy on her shelf that made her smile and feel proud of herself.

Y/N locks the wristband around her right hand, struggling for a little while. It’s never easy-peasy to put a bracelet without another person’s help. She stands up and faces the forest’s depth, standing in a direction in which she’d be facing herself running the marathon that day. Expecting to see only trees and their darkness, she’s surprised. Kids in a huge pack are running past her suddenly, all breathing heavily, all in track outfits. Short-shorts and tees, elastic bands around their heads. Girls’ hair made into ponytails (the only time it wasn’t braided) and guys’ hair sweaty and sticking in all directions. Participant wristbands around their right wrist, running shoes on their feet. They look straight out of an eighties’ sports fashion magazine.

But they’re not regular kids. Their faces are not unhappy. They’re focused. Plain white, looking blank, almost dead. And their eyes are hollow, as if hypnotised. Yet they still run, each in their own pace. And they don’t look at her, they look straight ahead.

Y/N looks at each child that runs past her. One boy she recognises. That’s Edward Corcoran, running forward among the other kids. Y/N gasps, a hand covering her mouth. That’s the boy who went missing, and who was never found. She stands on her feet between the running kids. None of them touch her, and none of them look at her. It can’t be that they’re all competing in a marathon. They’d definitely be muttering some curse or comment about her standing there, especially in Derry. But they’re completely silent.

The kids are like a river, an endless count of them are just running, and running, and running. More and more kids. Where are they coming from? They seem to be more in count than the total population of Derry, as far as Y/N knows. And if that’s Corcoran… What does this mean?

Y/N lifts her foot to get out of their way and get out of the woods, but she finds her foot stuck. What?! She almost screams upon simply being stuck, and looks down at her feet. Now she does scream.

“Fuck!” She cries, and tears pool in her eyes. Her foot is under a root, stuck again, even when she tries to move it backwards, up and left and right. She sobs. “No, no, no, no!” This can’t be happening again, not in all the ways of Hell.

“Y/N?”

Her name is called by none other than Stanley Uris. Y/N lifts her head, relieved, sure that he’s come back to the forest for her after finding his own token already. To help her now. But she doesn’t see him in front of her, she finds him laying in the stream, which is now rumbling and swaying through the forest in a quick current, washing the stones and mud along the way, creating waves. She can hear the noises it’s making, and grows even more confused.

Stanley’s laying right in the middle of it, looking at Y/N. There’s a sad look on his face, and the same one in his eyes. Why? Why is he sad? And what is he doing in the water? Swimming? What…?

“Stanley, what are you doing in there?” She asks, and though there is relief in her voice, there is also panic. “Did you get your artefact yet?” The man doesn’t respond. “Please get out of the water.”

Y/N is trying hard to get her foot out from beneath the root and get to Stanley, but there’s no success. The running kids make it harder for her, and the root seems to be moving upwards her leg, gripping her flesh and muscles.

“I love you, Y/N.” There comes a smaller voice. One with a higher pitch than the previous one coming from Stanley. Y/N glances back at him, and now she’s met with younger Stanley. He wears the red shirt he wore on the day of the Neibolt House fight, and his eyes look even more scared. Hold on a second…

“Stan…” She whispers between her own sobs. Her nails scratch at the wooden fingers holding her leg, and there are much more than five now, more than one hand would have. Fuck! The Oak monster.

Y/N watches Stanley, and he raises something in the air, each hand holding one. One what? One razor!

“Stanley, no! Stop, why do you have those?!” She screams in her panic. Did he take them to Derry, put them in his bag? 

Y/N feels now that the kids running past her are running closer to her, pressing their shoulders and hips into her crouched-over frame. It gives her no comfort at all. Have they noticed her?

“You mean everything to me.” Younger Stanley says. Younger Y/N, in turn, sees the boy she fell in love with, the boy she loved more than anything, the boy in complete terror from what he’s seen. Older Y/N keeps that in her mind, and knows that she must do one thing, and it’s going to be hard. She feels like she’s running out of time.

The sweet boy touches one of the razors to his skin, and Y/N screams. “Stop! Stop!” She screams in agony at him. Y/N looks around herself, searching for anything that might help her get out of the root’s hold. They’re wooden hands now, it’s been confirmed, she sees, and it only adds to her panicked state. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. Stanley can’t be here, not this Stanley.

What if it’s the real Stanley in the riverbed?

Shut up and get out of this damn root trap! She commands herself angrily, and the anger at her own self makes Y/N cry and shed more tears. Finally, she sees a piece of glass a few inches ahead of her. Her hand reaches for it, and when she’s about to reach it, just about to reach it, one of the running kids kicks it up in the air.

The piece of glass flies straight into Y/N’s face, and she yells when it cuts her. She feels a cut right above her nose, and a second after, blood spills from it slowly. She shuts her eyes and groans, but her hand continues searching for this piece of glass around her own feet. Thank goodness it’s only her right foot trapped, not both. She doesn’t know what she’d do if it were both her feet in the Oak monster’s hold.

“Stanley, I’m coming!” Y/N calls out in quite the optimistic voice, given the situation, and her hand finally finds the glass. “Ha!” She exclaims and grabs the glass. It cuts the soft pillows of her fingers, but she doesn’t feel the pain now. Blood gets in the way of her vision, so she tries to cut the wooden fingers off by purely feeling around the base of her foot.

The kids, who have been running closer and closer to her, now grab her by the armpits and raise her in the air. The piece of glass is lost again. Sudden panic rises in Y/N by the thought that her foot will be ripped off of her. But it isn’t. The kids lift her out of the root trap, and Y/N gasps in pleasant surprise. Should she thank them?

Then her eyes fall upon Stanley in the river bed. He’s looking straight at her, crying, and she sees the water flowing around him. It’s turned red. Deep, deep red. He’s done it. He’s hurt himself, he’s hurt himself and she couldn’t stop it-

“Stanley!” Her agony scream is loud enough to wake the next city over. “No, no, no! Take me back! Take me back!” She tries to wiggle out of the kids’ grips, but they only tighten at her protests.

If only they let her go… If only she could run back to the stream and get Stanley out of it, take him to the hospital… If only she was on her own feet.

“You can’t save him now.” The kids say in unison, and their voices make Y/N freeze. They sound exactly like the kids’ voices she heard coming from the sink that one fearful day in the girls’ lavatory. “You won’t save him.” There’s even laughs coming from some of the children carrying her, and it’s not the pleasant kind of laughter. Y/N whines

“Put me down!” She screams long and loud, shutting her eyes, and giving the words all of her voice. A second passes, and she no longer feels the tight grips around her arms and legs. Instead she feels the cold, steady ground her back falls onto, and she groans, twisting in pain. They have put her down.

She doesn’t know how far they carried her, but she rushes back onto her feet immediately and runs back in the direction they came from. There’s still time. There’s still time to help him. There’s still time to get him to the hospital.

And Y/N runs. She runs as fast as she can. It might just be as fast a pace as it was twenty-eight years ago, and perhaps even faster. She’s got to save him, she’s got to be there for him, got to keep him alive. It’s her only job. And if she fails at that, well… She’ll be the doom of all.

She reaches the stream again, and the place her foot was just stuck to the ground. But there is no trace of Stanley, no trace of the root, no trace of the busy stream. “What?” Y/N whispers to herself, her eyes frantically looking around, searching for any proof that Stanley might have been there, and that he’s just hiding somewhere (but why would he be?). Maybe the stream has carried him downwards!

There’s no stream, you idiot, she tells herself and slaps her own cheeks. Concentrate, concentrate! That was not real. Tears start pouring again, and Y/N sobs. She wheezes, her breaths turning into hiccups. Fuck, not now, she thinks, but it does no good. She still can’t calm down, still can’t grasp what’s reality and what’s twisted reality in all this.

Was Stanley here? But how was he… No, Stanley was not here. That is not real, Y/N. And the kids weren’t here. No one carried you. There was no root trapping your foot. There was no active stream in these woods, by this oak.

It’s all Derry. It’s all Y/N’s returning to Derry. It’s this place that just crawls with your worst nightmares and uncovers the horrible corners of your imagination. She hates it here, she hates it! Her hatred and anger turn into more tears. They’re scorching her cheeks, they’re like boiling water, and running down her face in red lines.

When she raises her head up, she’s met with the color red. Simply red, it’s all she sees. She furrows her eyebrows at it. The color, she notices, has a gloss, and Y/N realises what the red is. Before she can decide that, the balloon pops and the (stupid fucking) clown stands right behind it. The one who’s face she had forgot, and now remembers all too well.

“Feels like you can go straight bonkers here, doesn’t it, Rabbit?” The clown asks. He giggles in his hyper and maniacal way and bursts into a thousand more red balloons, each with “I heart Derry” written on it.

Y/N cries intensely and drops down to her feet. The balloons float out into the forest, and the clown’s laughter still rings in her ears. She puts her hands over her ears, curls up into a ball and repeats a few words to herself.

“It’s not real, it’s not real.” 

Y/N doesn’t care what she falls down on or that it could make her sweater and jeans dirty. She doesn’t care for the branches catching in her hair. She doesn’t even care that her voice has run out.

IT fooled her again. IT manipulated again. IT knows about her and Stanley. IT knows about Stanley's… Y/N takes a deep breath, suicide attempt. IT knows everything, and Y/N’s not safe anymore. None of her friends are. IT still knows every little detail about the Losers and what scares them, what he can make them see to make them feel smaller.

Y/N is ready to say no to that. She’s done with his torments on her and her friends. She’s done letting IT control her life. It has been enough. 

“I am not afraid of you!” She screams out, and her words travel up the trees, through the bushes, over the tree heads and tree leaves. Down the small stream and through the meadows and forest clearings. She wants to make sure IT hears her words. She likes to think the words are true, but her recent event proves the opposite.

And as IT crawls back into its sewer pipe, IT chuckles in a malicious way. IT is hungry, and it’s already feasted on Y/N’s fear. Stomach is barely filled. Oh, that tasty, tasty, beautiful fear that IT had waited to taste for twenty-seven years. IT has definitely kept count until the day he’d see his favorite meals return to town.

All that Y/N and her friends can do now is gather all their courage and emotional and physical strength to keep IT out of their minds. How will they succeed? Will they succeed? IT surely hopes not. 

He’s been hungry. The four victims he’s already had this cycle weren’t as satisfying as the Losers Club. The four didn’t smell the same delicious way as the Losers, they didn’t have the same delicious fears the Losers had, they couldn’t amount to these seven petrified, fragile souls.

IT longs for the best feast of its whole existence. And this time, the Losers Club won’t win. And IT will feast.


	7. remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley enters a place of holiness (but not to him) in search for his token. When he's got it, and is out of the place, he meets up with Reader and--accidentally--Richie.  
> Warnings: flashbacks, fear, emotional abuse, blood, sharp objects

Stanley can’t remember what is his token, not at first. It takes a little while to remember. Something that defined his childhood and in some way stayed with him all this time. Sheesh, those could be a lot of things. His bird encyclopedia? It’s probably at his house. The white bandages he wore after the Sewer fight? They’re probably all rotten and decayed. Did he even keep them? The doctor must have thrown them out each time he changed the bandages around Stanley’s head.

He could use the shower caps, back at the Clubhouse. Ah, but it wouldn’t be so personal. And that’s when Stanley realises what his token is. The blue kippah. The exact one Patrick Hockstetter threw into a bus, which he later reclaimed. The same one he always wore, the one his mother had made him. You wouldn’t ever see the boy without it, no matter where he was. Stanley wore it that whole summer, and, well, all the time, until he left Derry.

Once he left, his father’s pressure on him and his choices were no more. They stayed in Derry with the man himself, feeding on incompetence, and rotting away. Good riddance, Stanley thinks now. Good fuckin’ riddance.

“Stanley Uris.” He hears his name being called from the corner of the wide synagogue room. Stanley’s standing right in the middle of the bema, where he once held a speech. The exact spot where he’d read the Torah over and over again, the spot he was put pressure onto by the same person who calls his name now.

Stanley whips around, eyes wide and worried, his stance also visibly shaken. His eyes land on his father. The man looks the same as he did when Stanley was a kid. But that can’t be… My father passed away years ago. And the dead don’t just come out of the grave looking the same as they looked twenty-seven years ago. That just doesn’t happen. Oh, God, this is another puppet of IT. Don’t give in, Stanley, don’t give in! It’s not real, it’s only a nightmare.

Stanley gulps at this realisation, and he stands back. The figure of his father approaches him in slow steps, like fathers often do.

“You never did become a man.” Mr Uris says, shaking his head. Those words hurt Stanley and he tries to keep the tears in. He can’t see you be weak! Don’t be afraid! Remember what Y/N– “And I hoped. I hoped you’d grow up and become a real man, like me, who works hard, becomes a Rabbi and makes something of his life. But you just never wanted me to be happy, did you?”

“You don’t know me.” Stanley says in a strong voice. His usual shaky voice is being replaced. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know exactly who I’m talking about.” Mr Uris replies, his evil eyes squinted at his son. “I’m talking about a scared little boy. This boy couldn’t do a thing right, he could never carry anything out the way he was asked to.” He pauses. “You were always weak, Stanley. Always weak and always scared. And always running around with those friends of yours. What good did they ever do you if you wanted to forsake them by sliting your wrists, huh?!” The man has start to scream now, and Stanley puts his hands over his ears. The loudness grazes his eardrums in an unpleasant way.

“Shut up.” Stanley shuts his eyes and his head shakes violently. When he does open his eyes, he sees the thing that has taken his father’s form coming closer to him. Stanley has no choice but to go backwards, and eventually he walks off the bema and is forced to take even more steps backwards.

“You should have just slit those wrists.”

“Do the last good thing a failure can.”

“You think it’d make a difference in your friends’ lives?”

His father face has been deeply twisted by anger, it’s starting to turn red. No, more like there’s blood running from his eyes, his nose, his mouth. That’s what makes it red. He’s started to choke on water, and suddenly Stanley sees his own face instead of his father’s.

The sight makes him so petrified the man trips over his feet and falls flat on his bum. Stanley’s glasses fall off, and he struggles to get them. He wonders afterwards why he wanted to see so badly for the sight before him is more terrifying than he’s seen the last few days already. It gives the taste of death, he decides.

His face and his father’s face are switching places, but the eyes and the supposed look in them is the same. The phantom reeks of rot, of death, of all things Eddie Kaspbrak usually avoids and tells you to avoid, too. Stanley can smell the zombies from movies, dead bodies in abandoned places, hate and anger, the house on Neibolt street, he can smell abandonment and forgetting. He hates this being, he’s afraid of it. He doesn’t like the feeling it gives him.

“You won’t save anyone!” The phantom roars. Stanley not only hears it, but feels the roar in his chest, in his whole body.

Stanley hurries to get back up, and succeeds after a few stumbles on his slippery feet, and immediately goes to run towards his father’s former office. The phantom isn’t slowing down, either, and it still roars and screams and throws hurtful things at Stanley, including a physical one - the menorah of this synagogue. One that Stanley remembers having always been there. It only hits his shoulder, thankfully, but it was close to hitting his head, where the phantom was actually aiming. It yells in dismay.

Stanley barely escapes the phantom’s grasp when he runs through the office door. He shuts the door immediately, and falls against it. He still hears the growls and the screams, though they have stopped. They torture his ears and his brain until he breaks.

He’s gripped his hair between his gentle fingers, and he’s breathing in out and sharply. Stanley thinks ’this is how it feels to be Eddie’. Does he suddenly have asthma? Feels like breathing is impossible now, feels like his lungs are actually full of water, and he’ll drown, he’ll suffocate, he’ll die—

Stanley feels cold wetness on his forearms, and after his breath catches in his throat for the hundredth time, he realises he’s started to shed tears. And now that he’s aware of it, he can’t stop. Tears flow over his cheeks like geiser rivers. Hot, bubbling, quick-paced, relentless.

He loses the count or even feeling of time, but Stanley’s sure he’s in a safe place now, away from the terrible phantom and away from all that might bring him more terror. He’s in the right place to look for his kippah. It must be here, it couldn’t be lying around anywhere else.

Stanley remembers. His thin, swift legs climb the wooden stairs to this same office. His determined, but still nervous brown eyes watch himself take these steps. The blue button-up he wore tucked into his shorts, he still dressed the same even when he was about to go to college. How the sunrays shone through the mosaic windows and through the widely opened door. The man sees it all like a movie on a screen in front of him.

How anxious he was, but at the same time how glad he was to put an end to something. Stanley’s mind had been racing hundred miles a minute before he stepped into the synagogue, so many doubts and hesitations clouded his clear vision, this clear road he’s looking out onto. But he tells himself to stop, to shut up, to stop bothering this very grown-up decision.

He must leave this part of him behind. It doesn’t define who he is, not anymore. Stanley isn’t doing this because of the bullies, or what the other college kids and teachers might think of him, or the people that looked at him strange, or the ones who believed Richie Tozier when he claimed that Stanley killed Jesus Christ. He’s doing this for himself. To end his own suffering, to end the oppression from his father, to cut the ties he’s still got with his father. Stanley needs a fresh start. And his father, the fear, the pressure from him is the one thing Stanley likes to say good-bye to now. Everything else… He’s leaving Y/N behind, he’s leaving the friends still left in Derry behind….

He’s leaving all his bright, joyous summers behind. He’s leaving behind the pictures taken in the photo booth, he’s leaving the Arcade tickets and tokens. He’s leaving behind the ice cream that drips from the cone in the heat, he’s leaving the barbeques in his backyard, he’s leaving the pancakes Y/N made him any morning that he stayed over. He’s leaving behind his bike, he’s leaving the summer wind that felt like all freedom a person could have, and which always liked to brush his curls like someone’s hands. He’s leaving behind the adrenaline of jumping down into the Quarry’s water, he’s leaving the turtles at the bottom of it, he’s leaving the water fights and the challenges of who could spend the most time underwater.

Stanley sighs. He feels almost near tearing up. Not again, Stanley, you must be a man. Shut up! I’m leaving you behind, just like I am my kippah. He twists the office door open and steps inside, closing the door after his entrance. His eyes unwillingly turn to the portrait of the messed-up lady, and they stick there still. They always do. The painting’s almost hypnotising.

His eyes have grown wide now, and his movements are shaky, stoic. Fear’s in him again. And he absolutely despises the feeling, but can’t shake it off. Stanley fears that the lady will jump out of the painting suddenly, and attack him again, drill her sharp set of teeth into the sides of his cheeks and make him see horrible things that he tries to forget.

The lady, who actually went by the name Edith, is so unbelievably ugly and scaring that you couldn’t believe you’re actually looking at such a thing. Stanley’s not sure how she was a flutist, since her mouth was filled with hundreds of these little, sharp teeth. Like a shark, but smaller.

Stanley’s hand touches the left side of his face, where the scars were deeper and more serious. They don’t hurt anymore, they’ve practically healed. It’s been a lot of years, but they’re still there. Doctors have said they should be healing sooner than they are, and it worried Stanley. But he could see how they couldn’t be healing so quick. There’s emotional tugging in him, and in the scars. A lot to remember.

But he mustn’t linger on the past. Not now, when he’s trying to end contact with it. Stanley takes his hand away from his face and grips his kippah between both hands. His eyes even dare to draw away from Edith’s portrait, and look down at the kippah. It’s really beautiful, the pattern his mother knit into it. Blue with a black outline and white details. Really pretty.

“When you will have a son, you will give this to him.” She’d told him. Huh, Stanley thought then. If I have children, he thinks now, a man who’s tried a lot of times to get his wife pregnant. Will having children ever be possible for him? Seems an answer he’s got to figure out yet.

Stanley walks to his father’s table and puts the kippah down on a mat that’s supposed to hold papers, a bill book or a notebook to write in. He adjusts it to sit in the middle of the mat, bending his back a little. When it’s neatly put, Stanley leans up and stands backwards. Again, his eyes accidentally land on the painting of Edith, and he sighs a trembling breath.

She’s not going to become alive, Stanley, she’s not. It’s only a painting, and you killed IT with your friends years ago. At least you made it crawl back into its stinking sewer hole, and IT won’t come back out. Just like Edith won’t come out of the painting. Stanley shivers. The look of her still shakes him up. Her small eyes and her twisted face, the tones of the painting. All together, the painting is disgusting and Stanley hurried to get out of his father’s office before he could think of anything more Edith might do.

Now, Stanley stands in the same spot, twenty-one years later, and a realisation hits his calm mind like a tsunami wave. The realisation comes to him upon seeing the painting again. How is it still hanging there? How has no one found it unlikeable and taken it down and thrown it out or gave it away?

He’s not so safe here anymore. IT has crawled out of its cave and is back to haunt him using his deepest fears. Stanley’s not as safe as when he was before going back to college. He’s in as much danger as he was when coming across Edith thirteen years of age, for the first time that she came out of the painting. You can’t wonder why he’s so scared of it happening, because it’s happened before.

The man doubts whether it’s a hallucination his mind makes him see, or the actual reality, but Edith’s face jumps out of the framed painting, her neck stretching long like a snake. Stanley quivers back, shuts his eyes for a second, and when he opens them again, the painting’s back to normal. That was real. That can’t be a nightmare. He’s in Derry, after all, the place where an actual monster lives.

Stanley wastes no more time and begins searching for his blue kippah. It’s not under any of the faded and dusty piles of papers laying on the desk, it’s not in the drawers or in the shelves of the desk. Stanley huffs, and carefully stands up from his crouched-down position, and jumps again. Edith’s hand with the flute is hanging over the frame.

He shakes his head, shutting his eyes, too, and then stops. Opens his eyes, and looking back at the painting now, he sees Edith in her usual position and his blue kippah hanging off the edge of the painting’s frame. “Oh, fucking hell,” he swears under his breath. Stanley takes slow steps towards the painting and now stands before it as he did when he was thirteen, when he was hanging the painting back on its needle. Edith’s supposed face is very close to his own, and Stanley moves his hand slowly upwards to get his kippah.

He keeps his eyes on Edith the whole time in case she makes a move again. When the kippah falls into his hand, Stanley immediately takes a step back, yet his eyes are still glued on the painting. He then narrows his wide eyes and decides on something that he must do. Something that will help him, and also show the stupid monster he’s not afraid anymore, and that he never should have been.

Stanley stuffs the kippah in the back pocket of his pants and reaches for the dusty and probably rusted paper-cutting knife on his father’s old desk. He grips it in his hands, and takes the two steps back towards Edith’s portrait. Stanley sighs and draws the knife out of its socket. God, only seeing a blade makes shivers run down his spine.

He grips the knife tighter and starts cutting the painting, starting at the very middle which is also the center of Edith’s twisted face. He cuts, and he cuts, and he cuts, until Edith’s face is unrecognisable (you couldn’t tell it used to be a face once), until the painting actually splits open. Much to his own surprise and terror, blood spills from the inside and makes a mess on Stanley’s hands and his pants. He drops the knife and for only a few seconds, watches the blood spill. There’s so much of it you’d think he had cut someone’s stomach. Or wrists….

Stanley wastes not a second more in that horrible room, pulls the door open and runs right out. He doesn’t care if the screaming and stinking phantom of his father is still in the building, he needs to get out, he needs to be outside. The man almost trips over his feet again on his way out of the synagogue, but no falling or tripping over actually happens. Only the occasional almost-slipping on the blood that still drips from his fingers.

Clouds have gone over the sun, and make the already gloomy day in Derry even more gloomier. But Stanley feels better when he’s outside, breathing actual air instead of the stale, dusty one in his father’s office. He looks over his shoulder at the synagogue and exhales deeply. Still looks the same. The same innocent building that apparently holds holy presence, but would never seem like a place that holds terror and pressure to an unlikely passer-by.

Y/N calls Stanley right after she’s clumbered out of the forest, her chest still heaving and breaths catching in her throat. The beeps of waiting for the other end to pick up sound stretched, drawn out, way longer than they should be, and hearing them makes Y/N more impatient. But it takes a while for Stanley to pick up the phone. He looks at the phone screen with her name on it in big letters for a few seconds, contemplating the reliability of what he’s looking at. But eventually he decides it’s real, this is reality, and he picks up the phone.

“St-Stanley, where are you? Are you okay?” Y/N’s voice comes through the phone, and Stanley hears not only that, but also that she’s out of breath.

“I'm—I’m yeah, I’m fine.” He answers. Y/N doesn’t even want to guess what he’s seen, if he has seen anything yet, and imagines that his statement is far from true. “I’m at the synagogue. And you? Are you—”

“We’re both far from fine, Stan,” she says and takes a deep breath, walking back and forth to rest somehow from the running. Her hand is holding her side and she feels it moving up and down radically, “Stay there, if you can. I’m not that far.”

“Alright.” Stanley nods.

“See you there.” Y/N finishes and hangs up the phone. She stuffs it in her front pocket, next to her memorable wristband, and holds her waist with her hands. She huffs, and she takes breaths, the next one deeper than the last. She can surely run to the synagogue, no problem, she’s sure of herself. It’d take no more than ten minutes. Or even five minutes.

Nevermind calculating that now, she tells herself, start running instead. And so she does.

Stanley, with great hesitation, went into the synagogue’s bathroom to get some tissues to clean the mess on himself. The bathroom reeks of piss and shit, of grey water, it also has the horrid aroma of alcohol and cigarette smoke, and it’s pretty vandalised. Graffiti everywhere, stall doors broken down, as well as urinals and sinks. He has to hold his hand over his mouth and nose to block out the horrible smell.

He gets the tissues he needed, somehow clean and untouched, and walks back out on the street. He sits on the stairs in the front of the building, and wipes the blood off his hands and pants slowly, carefully, not to make more of a mess. After he’s done, he puts the dirty tissues in a near-by trashcan and then sits down for the second time.

Deep breaths come in and out of him. Stanley looks at the trees across the street, how they move in the slight wind and they brush against each other, and he sees birds flying around the tree heads. Hmm, those are a pack of mourning doves. They don’t often bring good luck, they can even bring something as gruesome as death. Stanley hopes they don’t bring actual death to Derry anymore, he hopes that with his whole heart.

He sees a bubble of blue running down the street that crosses this one, and he recognises Y/N being that bubble immediately. She’s running. As fast as she used to before, and a small smile crosses Stanley’s face. His head rises a little, excited to watch her run towards him. It’s a sight he remembers again, something forgotten.

Out of the other street, a red car suddenly drives out and stops at the junction. Y/N runs right into the car, straight into it without hesitation. As if she’d have a death wish. Stanley sure hopes she doesn’t have one.

He yells her name and stands up, quick to get off the stairs and head towards the car and her. Y/N has fallen down right in front of the bright red vehicle, laying on her back. She is still moving, slowly, though. The driver and Stanley both walk towards her, and Stanley recognises the driver, and adjusts his glasses.

“Richie?”

The mentioned man turns to him in half a squat to get Y/N back on her feet. “Oh, hey, Stan.” Richie says very mundanely, and lifts Y/N up, holding her by her sides. Stanley finally reaches the two and takes Y/N’s cheek in his hand. He sees that her eyes are wide, and she’s breathing. Thank God.

“Y/N, are you with us?” Stanley asks her. She slowly turns her head to Stanley.

“I’m here.” She responds. “Nothing hurts, I just… Oh, hey, Richie.” She says. “I ran into his car… Why do you have a car?” She asks her friend the question Stanley initially meant to ask.

The man groans. “Can you stand? I can give you both a lift. Sorry for almost running you over.” Richie tells her, and she can see the generosity in his eyes.

“You didn’t.” Y/N says and tries to stand on her feet. She can. “Thanks.” She pats Richie’s arm in a signal that he can take his arms off her. He does so, and pushes the hands into his pockets. Stanley immediately embraces Y/N and closes his eyes. It’s so nice to feel her again, feel her in his arms, and to know that she’s real.

Y/N thinks the same thing and wraps her own arms around Stanley’s torso. When his eyes do open, he looks at Richie, who’s looking at him and Y/N. “Seriously, man, why were you in your car?” Stanley inquires, his voice laced with both worry and suspicion. Richie sighs, his head shaking.

“I saw some shit I didn’t want to, something I never thought I’d see again.” Richie tells truthfully. Y/N faces Richie again.

“What did you see?” She whispers. The horrors she saw could be the same amount and just as scary as what Stanley and Richie both saw.

“Doesn’t matter.” He states boldly. “I wanted to… go. I don’t know, but seeing the synagogue made me remember something that convinced me to stay, I guess.” Richie looks Stanley right in the eyes. He nods, understanding. What convinced Richie is Stanley’s Bar-Mitzvah speech, Uris is sure of it. And he takes it dearly to heart that he convinced to stay in Derry and finish what they’ve started. Even a happy tear escapes. The two men exchange heartwarming, understanding smiles.

Richie’s not guessing, Y/N knows. He’s just not saying the entirety of what there is to say. And the real, full truth is on the tip of his tongue, and Richie’s yet to spit it all out.

“So, let’s go?” Richie proposes, feeling quite emotional and wanting that feeling to end. He’s never been one on one with his emotions, he doesn’t know how to deal with them right.

Y/N and Stanley both nod and head for the back of Richie’s car. Stanley opens the door for her, and she’s the first to get in. Richie powers the car once Stanley has sat down and closed his door, and he clears his throat.

“Put your seatbelts on and keep it PG-13 back there.” Richie says, and immediately makes Y/N laugh, but Stanley just shakes his head. “I heard enough last night.” He admits with a grumble. His friends noticed the bags under his eyes and how tired the man looks today altogether.

“That’s why you look like shit.” Stanley says, and when Richie eyes him through the rear-view mirror, Stanley is looking out of the window with a smug look on his face. Richie can’t fight a smile that breaks out on his lips.

“You wanna go by yourself? I can drop you off right here, Urin.” Richie jokingly threatens, and the whole group of three share a much needed laugh together. Feels like one of the last real laughs they’d have.

While they’re driving, Y/N slips her hand into Stanley’s and squeezes. It makes the man look at her.

“You okay?” She asks him, and Stanley takes a deep breath. “I know it’s a stupid question, but think not in general, but right now.” She adds, and Stanley smiles wide.

“Right now I’m very much fine.” He tells her. “You really didn’t hurt yourself? You ran pretty head-straight into this car.”

Y/N shakes her head. “I didn’t hurt myself. I guess I was… I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She decides and Stanley nods. 

Anything can take over you here, so he understands if Y/N doesn’t fully know what happened. Stanley leans closer to her and lays a kiss upon her forehead, to which she closes his eyes and falls against him. For now, we’re fine.


	8. checkpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Losers, all with tokens in hand, reunite in the Town Library upon a traumatic event, and are ready to start the ritual to fight IT. But where's Bill?  
> warnings: panic attack, violence, death

The ride was as close to sentimental as you could get. It was weird. Reminded Y/N of the time Richie got his dad’s car for himself and drove his few remaining friends around Derry, and a little behind its borders. Those remaining friends were an anxious Eddie, excited Y/N and Mike, and Stanley, who honestly tagged along because it would be more time to spend with his friends. Well, truth be told, they all had the same thought at the back of their minds. It was the summer everyone actually started leaving one by one, each on a different day, and it seemed like the sunniest summer, judging by the weather. But it was, probably, the saddest summer of their lives.

“Stop, you asshole! You can’t be going that fast! The limit's—”

“Fuck the limit! Nobody’s in this shit town, anyway, much less out on the streets on a fucking Sunday, you spaz!”

“I’m just saying, if you get us in an accident or killed before I go to college, my mom will sue you, your dad, and you’ll never win the case!”

Most everyone in the car sighed. Y/N poked her head between the front seats and turned the radio louder. Richie immediately turned the volume down and looked at Y/N in the rear view mirror. He saw her leaning back into Stanley’s side, and her legs resting in Mike’s lap.

“You’ll be hearing us until your ears decay away.” He told her, to which Y/N stuck out her tongue. That’s been a usual exchange between the two - a snarky comment from Richie and a mocking gesture from Y/N. Nothing has changed, she realises now. This little thing seems as natural to them both as saying ‘thank you’.

This little memory that holds a longer story within comes and goes as fast as any of the trees they’re passing. Y/N smiles at it.

She now looks at Richie through the small mirror. His face has changed a lot since before college. It looks serious now, and she almost laughs at this thought. His face is anything but serious, if you know him well. Richie’s eyes are wide, probably because of fear, and they’re laced with searching and worry. There are bags under his eyes, but Y/N knows last night isn’t the only reason he has those. They’re a normal thing for him, something Richie himself never pays attention to, but the people around him notice.

She and Richie, as well as the others, found worry for her friends since the moment she met them last night. Worry she had forgot she always had, worry that reminded her of its presence suddenly. It’s a love-laced worry. And she suddenly wants to ask all of them how they’re feeling, where they’re at, what did they see on their token-finding journey. She should have done that last night.

But she was busy with thinking about Stanley, undressing him with her eyes, unpeeling the layers these almost three decades have created. Busy with wanting him all to herself, wanting him to make love to her again like he did the first time. He was all she could think about, and honestly, he still is. But Y/N finds some form or regret in herself now. She doesn’t know how much time left she has with her friends, and maybe she’ll never be able to ask them “hey, how are you?” anymore after tonight.

Y/N knows Stanley would tell her it’s a silly thought, a silly thing to regret not talking to them. No one’s to blame for how and when she executes her feelings. She just knows what he’ll say if she voices her worries. 

She looks at Stanley, he’s a little above her. He looks as alive as ever, and somehow content, even happy, she could say. How strange. Their circumstances certainly don’t give you that sort of feeling.

She doesn’t know that Stanley’s reason for feeling that way is her. And he’s a little more confident in defeating IT now. The man thinks he’s not so scared anymore. He’s hesitant to think so because IT might find this thought and make him feel the exact opposite. Make him scared again.

Sure, he’s scared of losing his friends and them losing each other. But he’s not afraid of himself dying anymore. He guesses it must be because of the night in the bath. When you’ve come close to death yourself, in the case where you’re controlling it, death doesn’t scare you as much anymore. Might sound strange, but it’s what’s happened. Stanley might not realise it yet, but he soon will.

“You guys want anything to eat?” Richie asks, once again looking into the rear view mirror at his friends. Stanley and Y/N raise their heads towards him in sync, unintentionally, and it gives Richie a little spook.

“We could sure use a bite before we…” Stanley trails off, and his brows furrow. What exactly are they going to do? He looks back at Richie for any sort of filling in, but he shrugs.

Y/N sticks her arm in the air. “I vote food.” She announces, and it makes both men smile. “Are we picking anyone else up or will you third-wheel us until we meet the others?” She asks Richie and leans towards the front, her head once again between both seats, just like all those years ago. Richie rolls his eyes, but Stanley laughs more.

Richie looks down at Y/N as she’s looking up at him, and he says so much to her with these chocolate eyes. Richie holds so much love for her, and for Stanley. And he’s glad they’re reunited, though he doesn’t know what it might cost for the both of them after twenty-seven years. But he’s sort of melancholic. He wants what they have, and it makes him sad cause he doesn’t know if he’ll have that.

“If no one pops up, then there’s three of us.” Richie says. “I’m voting for Papa John’s.” He then states, and looks back at the street in front of him.

“Sounds good.” Stanley agrees, and so Richie heads towards Derry’s Papa John’s. He knows where it is, it’s been there since his sophomore year of high school. A God-send, honestly. Not that Richie could afford anything there while being a kid. He’d usually beg his parents to take him there or make his dad give him more chores for which he was being payed, and that’s how he got the taste of how good the pizzas there were.

Coming back now, Richie could afford everything on the menu, and given the situation, he’d have enough emotional burden to actually do so. He’s still contemplating it. He swerves into Papa John’s parking lot and stops the car, shutting the engine off afterwards. Stanley and Y/N slowly get out of the car, the car seats are extremely low and it’s a little hard to get to their feet. Richie holds the door and just huffs while they struggle.

Sure enough, when they had stood in the queue and had their turn to order (Stanley and Y/N were a little confused as to who was paying for what), Richie Tozier said: “We’ll have everything on the menu.” With a straight face, that puzzled his friends and made the waitress anxious. Her eyes went wide and she looked to her co-worker, who had heard the order, and had the question “Is that possible?” in a whisper.

“S-Sir, will you be able to pay for all of it?” The waitress had nervously asked.

“Course I will.” Richie’d replied. Then he’d handed her his business card with quite the fake smile, and she’d recognised his name immediately. The girl had smiled, maybe a small attempt to flirt with the much older man, and nodded. She told him the total, given him the check and told him and his friends to sit at the table they usually held birthday parties at. The biggest one they had, and the three would need all the space they could get for the twenty-something pizzas.

“Richie, man, I’ll transfer my share when—” But Richie had stopped Stanley mid-sentence with a simple shake of his head. Y/N eyes his calm demeanor and thinks he’s actually, really gone mad now.

“My treat.” Richie said. His arm goes around the sofa they’re all sitting at, Y/N in between the two, and sighed. “I honestly feel like I’m going crazy, and pizza could keep me from going completely bonkahs.” He did another one of his Voices, and that had made his friends ease up a little. If Richie cracked a joke, he was okay.

“I think we’ll die before we get any further than here.” Y/N said when the first two pizzas had arrived.

“That’s the plan.” Richie responded and already swallowed the first slice.

They were quite full when they walked out of the restaurant, and were carrying a lot of pizza boxes with them to put in Richie’s trunk. For later, the man had said, and Y/N thought they could feed their friends with warm pizzas when they meet them, if they were, in fact, hungry then.

When they reached the Town Library, it was already dark. But despite that, Y/N had noticed a familiar car parked next to it that rang a quiet bell in her memory disc. She couldn’t connect the car to who it belonged to or what it meant for anyone who saw in the school parking lot or by the park. As she squinted her eyes, looking through the car’s window, Stanley and Richie both asked her what’s wrong. And then it finally hit her. She remembered.

“Bowers.” She says, complete and utter dread in her voice. Stanley freezes up and immediately looks to Richie, and finds he has the same wide, terrified eyes. Richie stops the car and turns around to his friends.

“Henry Bowers.” Stanley whispers. He suddenly remembers him, too. The name brings back everything. Horrible names, cat-calling, making fun, taking supposed jokes too far, chasing, pushing, hitting… God. Did I think I wasn’t scared? Well, I might be wrong just now.

Richie already remembered Henry Bowers a few hours ago. God, it was horrible, how he made Richie feel about who he truly is, who he shouldn’t be afraid to be. But Bowers took it all away from him. He took away talking to boys without horrible remarks, he took away Richie being able to love freely. Richie hates the guy now. He purely hates him. Henry Bowers is just another version of IT, except he’s human.

“What if he’s in there with Mike?” Y/N quietly whispers and hesitantly meets the eyes of Richie and Stanley. She doesn’t want these words to be true, but she feels like they have to rise some sort of alert in them all, cause maybe they are true. Tears well up in her eyes only from thinking what Bowers would do to Mike in an empty building.

“We have to go in there.” Stanley says. “Make sure that isn’t the case and that Mike is safe.” He tells Richie and Y/N in a more urgent tone.

“No. We have to kill that stupid, demented son-of-a-bitch.” Richie says in an angry tone and immediately opens his door, stepping out. Y/N looks to Stanley with panicked eyes.

“We can’t let him go in there alone.” She says and takes off her seatbelt, already pushing the door open. But she freezes upon seeing that Stanley isn’t moving. “Stanley, we can’t!”

The man is just like a statue, and he only breathes again when Y/N’s hand is grabbing his forearm and pulling him out of the car. Only then do his senses come to life again.

Stanley’s mind has wondered far into what horror Mike and they all are in for once they’re in the Library. And he goes into a shock before anything has happened. The thought of Henry Bowers alone makes all his intestines twist, his hands and legs go stoic, his tongue stuck in his throat.

Y/N finally pulls him out of the car and they start running. It’s almost something Stanley has to do, makes himself do, not something he wants to do. Not like he doesn’t want to save Mike, the man is terrified to white mice about seeing another bully from his childhood and remember things he’s forgot, and would gladly like to not remember.

Another memory comes to Y/N. Feels like a video game - any other spot in Derry is just a check-point where she earns another memory to add to her tool pocket or whatever it’s called. This one’s from their last day of high school, she and the rest of the Losers were on their way to put up their leaving-school prank for all of Derry’s teachers. They were frequent visitors at the Library, and most of their top-class students were, as well.

Their plan was to mess up all the sections in the Library, f.e., put books about science where books about animals should be, and mess up the alphabetical order by a certain formula Richie thought up. It worked like magic, so the whole night spent at the library without sleep paid off. But Y/N can’t smile at this pleasant memory, not now.

Richie quietly opens the entrance door and lets himself and his two friends. They have started holding hands out of pure nerves and fear, and while the three tip-toe as quietly as they can through the Library, Y/N’s other hand reaches out to hold Richie’s, as well. They’re both scared and need to stick together.

They hear noises coming from the main room, that’s how they find Mike and Bowers. Y/N lets out a sniffle. Bowers is definitely in there with Mike. Richie huffs, his brow furrowing even more, and wastes not a second more. He lets go of Y/N and Stanley and pushes through the swinging doors.

“Richie, no!” Y/N whines, and can’t help but cry. There’s too many possibilities running through her mind, many different scenarios. But they all stop when Stanley goes through the revolving doors after Richie. Her mind goes completely blank, along with that her self-control flies out the window. She goes after Stanley, too, not thinking twice. Not even paying mind to the footsteps she hears coming somewhere behind her.

The sight she lays her eyes upon in the main room is simply too much. Mike is laying on the floor, Bowers is laying next to him, only there’s an ax stuck right in the back of his head. Y/N screams bloody murder, and hears a similar scream when a millisecond passes, right next to her. Her wide eyes find Beverly, and they both grasp onto each other. They don’t know what for, but it doesn’t matter.

“Dude, are you alright?”

“Rich, you okay?”

“No, I’m not alright! I just fucking… killed a guy!”

“I was talking to Mike.”

“Well, I was talking to Richie.” Stanley tells Ben, and makes his way towards Richie, careful to avoid the man’s vomit on the floor. “Come, let’s sit down.” Stanley tells Richie and brings him over to one of the chairs next to a table. Stanley sits Richie down. He’s clearly panicking, and in absolute shock of what he just witnessed himself do. “You’re okay. You’re fine.”

“I killed a guy.”

“I know, but… Well, this might come as a shock, but he deserved it.” Stanley offers to Richie, an offer to make him smile. The man only gives him wide eyes and a sort-of crazed grin. Stanley gets a plastic cup full of water from the dispenser a few shelves down, and gives it to Richie.

Meanwhile, Beverly has turned Y/N away from the horrible sight of the dead body, while Y/N cries into her chest. Ben is already started to patch up Mike’s hand, given the needed bandages and anti-inflammation medicine from Eddie. He wasn’t carrying them in his fanny pack, as he did back in the day—he seems to have dropped this trend—, Eddie knows well where the first aid kit is in the Library. Mike couldn’t begin to tell him the directions, cause he knows as well as Eddie where it is, because he’s still in a sort-of shock state.

“I gotta call Bill.” Mike says and takes his cell out of his jeans, immediately looking for Bill Denbrough in his Recent Calls list. He presses the name once he finds it, and waits for the call.

“What are we gonna do about the body?” Y/N whispers.

“I’m not fucking touching it.” Eddie says, raising his arms up the way he did before leaving the restaurant last night.

“Neither is Richie. Not for a while.” Stanley states, looking at Eddie and huffing quietly.

“None of us are.” Richie then says, and stands up. “We’ll leave it here, cause no adult actually questions anything here, right? I remember it all now… None of them cared.”

“Yeah, no one seemed to notice anything.” Beverly nods.

“Even when we took Stanley to the hospital to get his face stitched up.” Y/N agrees, and her eyes meet Stanley’s. “The nurse didn’t even ask what had happened.”

That is true. Stanley remembers just sitting on the stretcher while the nurse cleaned his wounds and wrapped bandages around his head. Y/N was holding his hand through the whole thing, and was wondering why the nurse isn’t asking anything about what caused this, who bit him, nothing at all. There wasn’t even a snarky comment from her like there were from other adults in Derry. She was like a ghost or something, or a robot.

“Mike, what’s going on with Bill?” Ben asks, noticing that Mike has been hung up on. Mike sighs and shakes his head.

“He’s going to fight IT alone.” Mike informs his friends. A quiet “what?” leaves Richie’s mouth, and he looks to the others. Mike huffs and takes out a prysm-shaped box made out of leather before anyone else can respond. “It's—it’s about the group! The ritual doesn’t work without the group! Doing it together is why it worked!” Mike insists.

“Mike, we’ll find him, okay?” Y/N says. She’s leaning down on a shelf with her arms, her butt almost up in the air, giving Stanley quite the thing to fantasise about. This is not the time. Keep it down, Stan the Man. “We’ll find him and we’ll be a group again.”

“Did he even tell you where he was going?” Beverly asks.

“If he really wanted to kill Pennywise, there’s only one place where he could go.” Stanley says, a far-away, searching look in his eyes.

Mike nods. “The same place the ritual needs to be performed.” Eddie sighs now.

“We’re not gonna like this, are we?” He asks, his mind already racing back to the things he’s seen and felt at the house on Neibolt Street. Y/N runs her hands over her face and groans. Stanley takes his glasses off to clean them and convinces himself that he should not run away, he should not turn his back now just because he’s scared to death. They all are.

Even Ben expresses his current feeling by muttering, “fuck.” More to himself than others. His mother had always taught him that 'fuck’ is a Big Bad Word he must never say, and he never did as a kid, and took time to look in wonder at the ones who did. But he’s not a kid anymore, and mother isn’t here to discipline him.

Beverly runs a hand over Y/N’s back soothingly, and Y/N appreciates it. She leans back up and sighs, pats Beverly’s back and looks in her eyes. She can feel the fear she feels, cause it’s the same one she has in her bones. Y/N pulls Bev gently into herself now, giving her a sort of solace for only a moment. The men give the girls a sympathetic look

“Let’s go, then.” Mike says, already putting the prysm thingy back in his bag and heading towards the revolving door. Richie, Ben and Eddie go right after him. Stanley and the girls join them when Bev and Y/N have pulled apart, and Y/N holds Stanley’s hand again.

Even though they’re all going to a place that they hate most in the whole world, the group are glad to be doing it in each other’s company. Together, they’re stronger. Together, they’re more confident, more sure of winning. Together, facing their fears isn’t so scary.


	9. dead futures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Losers finally enter Neibolt House. Patty Uris thinks on her husband's promise. Fear and horrors ensue.  
> warnings: razors, blood, panic attacks, IT, fear

Patty had grown worried. Her husband hadn’t called her since he left, and that had been two nights ago. He said he would, he promised her he would. So where’s the call? She turns her slim phone around between her fingers, waiting for Stanley to call her. She’s contemplating whether to call him herself or not. Patty sighs. 

Her brow is furrowed in deep thought and exhaustion. It’s already way past the usual time she goes to bed, and maybe she should just let it go and go to bed. But maybe she should call him and then go to bed, once she knows everything’s okay. Patty rubs the place between her eyes and finally decides on the later option.

She presses “Curly-wurly <3 <3” in her recent calls list and puts the phone up to her ear, waiting for the signal. When it comes, she waits for Stanley’s voice to cut through. Her fingers twist the corner of her notebook as she waits, anticipating to hear him. Best case scenario, to tell her that he’s fine and well and that he’ll be coming home soon.

Stanley’s pocket vibrates and he soon hears his ringtone, birds singing. He stops walking and pulls the phone out of his pocket. Y/N stops her own steps when Stanley does, but her arms locked around his elbow suddenly feel cold as Stanley reads who’s calling him. “Baby-love <3”.

Being wrapped up in all his childhood memories and forgotten people, Stanley had honestly forgot about his wife and the duty to call her. He hates to admit it, but it is the truth of what’s happened. He unlocks his phone and answers the call, lifting the cell up to his ear. Y/N’s arms have disconnected from Stanley, he can’t even feel her by his side, even though she’s there.

“Hey, baby-love.” He says to Patty. She sighs in pure relief..

“Oh, hi, honey,” she says after her sigh, “I’m glad to hear you.”

Stanley smiles. “I'm— I’m sorry for not calling you sooner.” He instantly apologises, but Patty shakes her head. “It’s just… Being back here, back in Derry… It's… Well, I’ve been—”

“Stanley, love, it’s okay,” Patty tells him, “I was worried, but I’m not… so much… Now that I hear you. You just promised, is all. How are you, um, how are you holding up?”

“It’s a lot, but nice to be here with my friends. Nice to meet them again.” Stanley nods and smiles, his eyes on the group of friends in front of him. “How are you, baby-love? What time is it over there?”

“It’s half past midnight.” Patty says. “I’m fine, just tired. I ate some spaghetti for dinner, the left-overs from before last night.” 

“Uh-huh,” Stanley gets stuck on his words, “well, you should go to bed, baby-love. I’m heading— I’m heading somewhere now and I want you sound asleep in bed.”

“What are you— You don’t think I’m safe? I’m home, Stanley.” Patty’s confused. Is Stanley in danger? Where is he going to go?

“No, no, I just want you— I want you to rest, alright?” Stanley sighs. 

“Alright, alright, I will. I was thinking of it, anyway. Way past my bedtime.” Patty laughs into her phone. Stanley smiles an uneasy grin. “So, keep in touch, right, honey?”

“Absolutely. I promise to call you as soon as everything’s cleared out.” Stanley says, nodding. “Have a good night’s sleep, baby-love.”

“Good luck, sweetheart. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.” Stanley finishes the call and puts his phone back in his pocket. He sighs and looks around. His friends are still waiting for him, and he puffs. “We can go, guys.” He calls out to them, sort of awkwardly because they were all waiting for him, and the Losers nod, restarting their journey down Neibolt Street. 

Y/N’s hands don’t lock around Stanley’s elbow as he’d sort of expected them to. Instead, she walks side by side with him with the hands stuffed in the back pockets of her jeans. But she doesn’t feel as cold to him anymore, now that he’s ended the conversation. She knows who called Stanley, and she doesn’t want to have any negative feelings or thoughts. Towards who? Patty Uris? Herself? Either. She doesn’t want to get in the middle of anything good Stanley has with Patty, but she also doesn’t want to be alone after this, if she survives. Eh, whatever, don’t think about that now.

“Is she okay?” Y/N asks, looking over at Stanley. She genuinely does care, even though she doesn’t know the woman. She cares because it’s mundane to care. 

“Patty?” He echoes. “Oh, yeah, yeah, she’s okay.”

“She’ll be safe, baby,” Y/N nudges his side with her elbow, “she’s far away from here.” She’s never met IT, and she’s never known of Derry. She’s never known the horridity of nightmares Stanley or his friends have known their whole life.

Stanley agrees, nodding slowly, and keeps walking. He doesn’t feel the cold from her as he did minutes ago, but there is some sort of barrier between himself and Y/N. He doesn’t want there to be, though. Things should be spoken out, things should be true and they should, after all, be honest with each other. After everything…

Stanley steps closer to Y/N and takes her hand in his once again. He presses a kiss to her forehead and continues looking out at the street. She might have thought he wanted to make her feel better or something, but he wanted to close this growing distance and keep things between them as they were just seconds ago. 

“Don’t let what we have change.” Stanley whispers to her. “Please.”

Y/N looks at him, or more like glances with carefulness, and then looks back away. “Honestly, it’s hard not to, but… I love you a lot.” She admits. “I love you the most, and yes, I agree not to change a thing.” She nods. “While we have the time.” Comes a quiet whisper then that Stanley almost doesn’t catch.

“I love you, too,” he responds, “let’s make the most of what we have.” 

And so they do.

Convincing Bill didn’t come easy. Not at first. His motive for wanting to go and fight IT alone is completely understandable, and if she’d ever had any siblings, Y/N would do the same. So she understands him, and can get behind that pain. Mostly because the thought of losing her friends who are just like family to her is as much terrifying as Bill losing his brother, she thinks. But she can’t say that for certain, only that she knows how great his pain is.

It was always sort of Bill’s thing to do, something he always thought he’d have to do at some point. Giving himself up to save everyone, being the hero. Maybe it was the superhero cartoons and movies he watched as a kid. Maybe it was when IT held him all alone and offered to take only him and leave the rest of the Losers to live. Maybe that gave him the idea. This certain idea was that he had to die for his friends some day. And he thinks this day has come. It’s his moment to finally do something right.

His friends beg to differ. Not only is he stupid to go inside alone, but he did everything for them when they were little. Bill wouldn’t do a good thing now, fighting IT alone, he’d only die and he wouldn’t actually fix anything. His friends can’t let him do that. They need to go together, it’s the only way they can stop IT once and for all and save future generations.

“If we die, then we all die.” Y/N tells him, though her voice trembles. She knows none of them want that to come true. But there shouldn’t be another way. “You’re not alone in this.”

“It’s my fault you’re all here! If I hadn't—”

“It is not your fault, Bill.” Y/N insists, shaking her head.

“It was never your fault, Bill.” Beverly joins in. Y/N eyes her thankfully, and then looks at Bill. He looks convinced. For now, at least. He huffs, and looks down.

“I can’t ah-ask you to come in with me.” Bill then says. Y/N almost rolls her eyes at the disappointment of him not being convinced to the fullest.

Beverly picks up a near-by laying spike. It must have been broken off the fence surrounding Neibolt House and thrown into the grass. “We’re not asking you either.” She says to Bill. He huffs again, and eyes Beverly carefully, and the carefulness might even be mistaken for fear. He fears how brave his friend seems to be, thinking she’s only convinced herself and her friends that she’s not afraid and that she actually is.

Y/N has to pull on Stanley’s hand a bit harder when they start piling into Neibolt House. He’s eyeing the building up and down, a mix of regret and fear and courage floating around in his eyes. The courage is decreasing with each second he looks at Neibolt House. The house is sucking all the courage Stanley could have had, it did twenty-seven years back and it still does now. 

She gives his hand a squeeze and takes another step towards Neibolt. It doesn’t matter that she’s scared to death. It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t want to go in, either, it doesn’t matter that she thinks she’s weak and that she’s doubtful of their success. Stanley needs something good now, he needs something that would give him back that courage. And she sure shines like a star in front of him. It’s only the street light from around the corner of Neibolt House that gives her appearance that effect, but it works.

Stanley gulps and his eyes guiltily drop to the floor, but he follows her into Neibolt. She puts an arm around his torso and pulls him close, and they finally enter. They’re the last ones to, and their friends sigh once they come inside, relieved to see them in all honesty. They were also a little impatient to do this as quick as possible, spend time here as little as possible.

“I woulda used the chance in your shoes, guys.” Richie admits, looking shortly upon his last arriving friends, and then he sighs, turning around to go deeper into Neibolt. He takes a look around while Stanley and Y/N change into holding hands and also examine the inside of the house. Blood starts dripping down from the second floor of the house and takes up the walls and the ripped wallpaper in its way. Y/N shivers. “Man, I love what he’s done with the place.” Richie says. 

“Beep-beep, Richie.” Bev responds.

“He’s recognising his favorite colors.” Y/N points out. 

“There was a basement, r-right?” Bill asks, his flashlight pointing towards a door of some sort. No one really answers him, overwhelmed by the house and more specifically, how it hasn’t changed in the least. You’d think someone took it down, maybe sell it— or worst case scenario— restore it and make it for public use. IT would never be hungry.

It feels weird to be back in Neibolt. Y/N almost can’t believe her eyes and ears that she’s actually back here. This place reeks, and not only aroma-wise, and it reeks so strongly you could faint upon entering. The aroma goes deep in your nose and your mouth, and for a moment you think you can taste it. What does it taste like, Y/N, huh? What do you taste? Y/N shakes her head to get the voice out of her head. Exactly the same things that the house reeks of not aroma-wise.

It tastes like death. Like fear. Scars. Scars from painful memories. It tastes like pain. Y/N holds back the tears in her eyes and her hand squeezes Stanley’s tighter. And there’s complete, dead silence in the whole house, one that makes you think you’re deaf. This house for Y/N is the most hated place on planet Earth. But it feels as though the rest of her friends only fear the place, fear what it would make them see. Except, maybe, for Beverly. She’s not afraid anymore, so it seems. Y/N somehow came upon the realisation before they all entered Neibolt. 

Y/N noticed then that her friend is determined, just like her. The girls have come in with one thought and one thought only. And Y/N loves the power she gets from Beverly, she feels much more stronger. “Girls gotta stick together,” Beverly had one day said to Y/N. It was likely on the day after the first Neibolt House fight, after Bill had a fight with Richie and the Losers seemed to split. Beverly had told Y/N that because the girl was afraid their friend group would never recover, feeling like that was the worst argument of their lives that would make way for their falling apart. 

“Girls gotta stick together.” Beverly says and though she’s a bit sad, there’s still the signature grin on her cherry lips. Y/N can’t even give her a smile, too broken by her friends getting into a fight. It’s so wrong, so wrong, so wrong. It shouldn’t have happened! They shouldn’t have fought about this, they should have just gone home or to the Clubhouse and rest together. 

“But there’s only two of us.” Y/N says and sniffles a tear. Beverly awws and puts her arm around her friend’s shoulders.

“Honey-bun, don’t be so sad. They’ll get back together!” She encourages. “Trust me, they’ll be joking around and having fun before you know it.” 

“Before summer’s over?” Y/N wipes her nose and shamefully looks away from Beverly’s warm face. Beverly nods.

“I promise you.” Beverly tells her surely. 

“Is something wrong, Y/N?” She asks. Beverly wonders why she’s got this strange, sappy smile on her face. Like she’s sad, and that she likes being sad. Perhaps she’s thinking of something that makes her feel both ways. 

Y/N shakes her head. “Nothing’s wrong with you, I just… I just remembered something.” She tells Beverly.

This power she felt from her friend vanishes when Ben, Beverly and Mike step the other way from her, Stan, Richie, Bill and Eddie. Where are they going? Will they be back? What have they seen? Should they have split up? What are they looking for? The basement… Y/N’s head starts to spin, this seemingly small split-up reminding her of the one in 1989. 

“There was a basement h…” Bill starts to say, but falls silent when he opens the door in front of him. The group of five stumble into the room. 

“Oh, the kitchen.” Richie points out.

“Or it was supposed to be.” Eddie says. Y/N looks over at him and huffs quietly upon the sight of Eddie’s fearful face. She wants to tell him, hey, it’ll be alright, you’re going to be fine, Eddie, but she can’t. She can’t even tell herself that. Once they’ve split up, once the Losers aren’t together anymore, there can be no hope or maybe hope is all they have. Cause, just like Mike said, it’s about the group. And now that they've— 

A scream comes from where Ben, Beverly and Mike went off to and the five heads turn immediately. “Ben?!” Comes a yell from everyone, and Bill starts to walk out of the kitchen, to the rest of his friends, but the door slams shut in both his and Eddie’s face. 

“Oh, no!” Y/N whines. “What’s happening to him?!”

Stanley starts to ease her, calm her in some way, his hands tight on her arms for support. But Y/N’s eyes are too frantic, she’s too scared. Everything’s gone wrong, everything’s gone wrong. They shouldn’t have split up, they never should have split up. It’s wrong, it’s all wrong. No, no, no! Her frail fingers can barely take hold of Stanley’s arms, they’re shaking much too violently.

“Baby-love, he’ll be fine, we can go through another d— “ 

But his suggestion abruptly stops when the fridge starts rattling. The group of five immediately huddle on the opposite side of the room, all eyes on the refrigerator, wide and panicked. Their hands and arms are a mess together, reaching to hold onto each other for what might be their actual dear lives. Y/N’s sure she can feel just about every friend’s hands on her somewhere, but the panic in her doesn’t let her care for them. 

“What the hell’s happening?” Eddie whines, his hands concealing his face.

“S-Something’s inside thuh-the—” Bill’s cut off by the refrigerator stopping in a heartbeat. They all draw in sharp gasps and freeze.

“The fridge.” Y/N finishes. The door slowly opens and the five Losers expect to see the inside of a regular old, rotten, unused fridge. But there’s a different scenery that appears to their eyes. And each have a very different reaction. 

Stanley’s lip trembles. His eyelids flutter for only a second, there’s the look in them that you have when you can’t believe what you’re seeing, but you know it’s real. Richie, Eddie and Bill in turn are confused, their brows furrowed as they try to understand what they see and they mutter curse words silently under their breaths. Y/N gulps and her eyes tell whoever looks at her that she knows exactly what this means.

There’s blood coming out of the fridge, just like it was coming down the walls in the living room and stairway. And it’s coming from two cut hands. Two cut wrists, to be more precise, they’re cut vertically. That’s sure death for a person. The hands are hanging out of the fridge, as if someone was sitting right inside it and holding their bleeding hands out. And there’s razors falling out from between the fingers, a bunch of razors making a pile on the floor where the blood gushes over. The metal clinks against the floor graze the Losers’ ears.

“What the hell?” Richie asks in a hushed whisper. Who committed suicide? Anyone we know? Someone new? A parent? A teacher? A kid?

If the five were doubtful about there being a person in the fridge, they were wrong to be so. There is a person inside, and they’re now coming out of the fridge. The figure is slowly twisting themselves out, unfolding their arms and legs and back, the wrists remaining stretched outwards. Once they’ve come out, Y/N immediately recognises the figure and the person. Stanley can’t at first, and strangely so, taking it’s what he saw in the mirror for a lot of his teenage years. How can he not recognise himself?

“It’s S-Stan.” Richie Tozier actually stutters for the first time in his life. Y/N looks from the younger version of Stan to the real Stanley. The real Stanley’s right here. He’s here, and he’s real.

“You killed me.” Young Stanley whimpers. There’s blame in his voice, and there’s sorrow. God, he’s all wrong. His hair is messed-with and dirty and full of dust. His eyes are pale, Y/N can barely see the pupils and irises that were once a lively brown. His skin looks like mold, peeling away at some places and having the color of blue and white and light brown. And his wrists are still bleeding heavily. He could be crying, but Y/N honestly couldn’t tell. He’s all blue. He looks like a… Like a corpse.

Y/N sees the emotions changing on real Stanley’s soft features, his lip starting to tremble, his eyes starting to water and his skin going pale. She’s quick to grab his face in hers and turn it towards her. “Don’t look at that. Don’t look at that. It’s not real. It’s not real.” Their foreheads touch.

“Guys—” 

“Not real?! You think you didn’t kill me?! Like you’re NOT gonna kill me?!” Young Stanley’s voice must have turned into an animalistic one or something else must have come into the room. But Y/N turns to see only young Stan. 

She presses real Stanley’s face into her neck so he wouldn’t look, so he wouldn’t trust this illusion. He doesn’t react, he only grips her sides in pure desperation for comfort. He doesn’t know what to tell his friends, if he even needs to say anything. His secret is out. The secret only he and Y/N knew. Apparently, IT has somehow found it out and decided to torment him with this knowledge. And now almost all Stan’s friends know. What is he going to do? What is he going to tell them if they ask?

“You don’t think it’s real?!” The voice coming from young Stanley howls again, its hateful stare burning straight into Y/N. She feels like he’s getting straight to her soul. “It’s your truth, Rabbit!”

“Yo, what the FUCK!” Richie screams. Young Stanley’s arms have grown longer in a second’s time and his fingers are sharp like knives. No, like razors. “It’s fucking razors for FINGERS!!” Comes another scream from Richie. One of the arms has shot towards him, trying to get him, but Richie dodges it, and the razor-hand gets stuck in the wall. Eddie clings right to Richie, so does Bill. Stay together, stay together. 

“This shit can’t be real! This only happens in movies!” Eddie claims, young Stanley’s arm retracting and shooting out at him, but once again getting the razors stuck in the wall and not a body. 

“What th-th-th-the fuck does this mean?!” Denbrough pleads, waiting for anyone to give him the answer, even if the answer comes from the horrible creature taking the form of young Stanley. But he doesn’t get a clear answer.

“It’s your truth, Rabbit, and it’s your future! It’s our future.” Young Stanley continues. He’s speaking right to Y/N. 

“Our future?” She echoes in a whisper. The creature nods and even adds a menacing giggle. It makes everyone shiver. The arms are sticking out long in every direction, the group of five split up in the kitchen to dodge the deadly razor hands. Oh, they’ll cut them, they’ll cut them for sure. 

“Our future, dear. Right down the well, in the sewers. Where we all float!” 

“None of us will be floating, you motherfucker!” 

“Oh, you all will! There will be no wedding, no heroism, no confessions, no happy ever after for you, Losers!” 

“Shut up, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” 

This last remark comes from Stanley. It shocks his friends. He’s still holding Y/N’s hand, but he’s stepped forward and is facing his younger self. The creature’s arms drop to the floor and young Stanley’s head twists towards Stanley. The grin on his face has frozen.

“You don’t make our future. We do!” Stanley claims and points his finger to his own chest. Then he points it to young Stanley. “You will not be in our future! You have NO SAY!!” 

Young Stanley’s arms grow suddenly short to their normal size. “What about me, Stanley?” It quietly asks, the voice now soft and begging. Y/N notices his skin changes to a livelier, more ordinary color and the hair grows out more volume, gaining its normal color back, as well. And his eyes… Well, that’s a copy of young Stanley now. The child in the real Stanley feels that he’s looking in a mirror. 

“You’re nothing. I’m here now. You’re not real.”

“Just like all your children. All your little birdies.” Young Stanley teases, and laughs another giggle. The comment makes everyone a little confused. 

“The fuck does that mean?” Richie exclaims. 

“Stan, did you have children?” Eddie asks. The three— Bill, Eddie and Richie— are standing across the room from Y/N and both Stanleys. The real Stanley shakes his head.

Young Stanley laughs, holding his tummy. “All your children. All the children that will never be born!” His voice becomes horrible again, sounding like a wolf and a screaming witch combined. His arms grow out once again and chase after the running Losers in the small kitchen. “I AM YOUR FUTURE! I MAKE YOU AND I MAKE YOUR FUTURES!” It screeches. 

The five do their best not to get stabbed or grazed, and among the tangle of flying arms, razors, furniture and themselves, Y/N tries to unite the group again. She holds Stanley’s hand and reaches for Richie’s hand with her free one. Richie’s holding Eddie and Bill is also holding Eddie, so all that needs to be done is for Richie and Y/N to connect. Then they can run as a group and break down the kitchen door to get back to the rest of their friends. 

Young Stanley has gone full feral, screaming and yelling and crying, and waving his razor spider-like arms around. He’s trying to get at least a cut on one of the Losers, but he doesn’t succeed. Luck is on their side like it hasn’t been for a long time. Some angel must have shined its light down on the five friends. They finally get the door open and immediately run out of the old kitchen. Stanley is careful to shut the door before his younger version gets out. Young Stanley is still screaming, and when met with the door, he bangs his hands against it, and real Stanley’s even faced with the razors coming through the rotten wooden door, and he draws back immediately, choking on his breath. His friends run, their hands linked, and Stanley’s pulled down the hallway by Y/N. They five are eager to get to the screaming Ben. 

Is he still screaming? Has he stopped? Is there silence in the house? None of the five can really hear anything from the outside world, so many thoughts are racing around their minds and making horrid noises at once. So many questions, so much confusion. Was that Stanley? Richie asks himself. Has he lost a kid? Bill wonders. What did the wrists mean? Eddie questions. Had his kid committed suicide? But what if it was Stanley who… No, no, he couldn’t have. No, that’s too horrible. The three men are surely confused, and decide to ask Stanley about it in case of their survival after this. They must have answers, but now they must save Ben.


	10. faceless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Losers venture deeper into IT's layer, and they do it together. Something catches Stanley's eyes, a certain room, and it reminds him of the horrors he saw there twenty-seven years ago. He sees them again.  
> warnings: a jewish slur, panic attack, flashbacks, fear, greywater

“Ben! Oh God, oh God!” 

“Man, are you okay?”

“What was happening?”

“I’m okay, guys, I’m okay.”

In the grim measurements of the Losers’ situation and whereabouts, this sentence doesn’t seem at all mundane. It even seems absurd, it seems untrue. Deep down they all know Ben’s not okay, and none of them know when he will be. But he’s okay for now, his eyes tell his friends just that, and it’s what they need. Ben doesn’t want to waste a second more.

“Let’s go kill that son of a bitch.” The man says and starts the Losers’ journey further down Neibolt House. Y/N still grips Stanley’s hand. Richie, Bill and Eddie have let go, though some fear in them urges the hands to reconnect and stay that way until the fight is done. But they decide to stay together as a group without intertwining hands. 

Y/N and Beverly are the first ones to go down the old well, encouraged by Richie’s “Ladies first.” comment, though it was a natural thought before the comment came. When asked who wanted to go down first, everybody hesitated to answer, except the girls. They are all afraid, but they know someone has to take the first step, and they know they must be brave. Y/N and Beverly are the first to make up their minds, the men appreciate it and help them get down the well. Surprisingly, the rope from their first visit to the well is still there. There are blood spots, Mike thinks, the blood spots that dripped from Henry Bowers when he came down here and tried to kill little Mike.

As Y/N is let down slowly down the well, she looks up to Ben, the one who’s handling the rope-travel. And she sees her male friends surrounding the well in a circle. The smallest sense of a smile, only a sparkling glint, grows on her face. The boys. But when she looks into Stanley’s eyes, the little smile drops. He looks incredibly sad, sadder than he usually does. 

When he looks down the well, he sees nothing but fear, nothing but abandonment and torture. Is he ready for this? Can he do it again? What if the woman’s there? And what if she gets him again… He doubts his friends and their sort-of loyalty to him. You couldn’t blame him, really, the boy had a traumatic experience (more than one) that would give you proof as to why he’s so scared and distrusting still, the fear that his friends are going to leave him again. That they’re gonna split up and that they will leave Stanley to the horrible creature and the things IT made him see…

Stanley’s not actually sure he can go down there again. But Bill has made sure Stan’s not the last one to come down, sending him down right after Eddie and before himself, Richie and Mike, and Ben. Bill noticed the fear in Stanley’s eyes and had walked over to him, had wanted to give him comfort. He remembers now what Stanley’s afraid of.

“We’re going to stick together.” Bill says, his hand on Stanley’s shoulder. Uris takes a sharp breath, a little shaken by Bill’s presence suddenly right in front of him. His eyes almost shake, as strange as that sounds, and Bill’s firm look on Stanley doesn’t do much help. If it’d been a calm look, he might feel different. But he can see in Bill’s eyes that he’s a little impatient, but does not want this impatience to show. He wants to seem Stanley as supportive as he was to him almost three decades ago. 

Richie walks over to Stan and Bill, noticing there’s something wrong. “Hey, man,” he says to Stanley, and Stanley recognises a sympathetic look in his eyes, “we won’t leave you, alright? We’ll always be together. Plus, you have Y/N, and she has a damn tight grip on hands.” Richie says, and that makes Bill chuckle, he nods in agreement. 

Stanley looks at his hands and his feet, he looks afar, and then he looks up at his friends again. And he nods. Hallelujah, he nods. “Alright.” He says to Bill and Richie, then nods again. “We’ll be together.”

“And that’s a promise.” Bill assures, and Stanley nods at him, already walking past Bill and Richie. Bill’s hand lingers on Stanley’s shoulder, but eventually falls off and Bill’s left to look almost longingly after Stanley when the man lowers himself down the well. Bill looks to Richie and huffs, Richie only gives him a plain, almost non-existent smile. They’re worried about Stanley most of all, and they hope to God he really is alright, and that he actually trusts his friends. They promise again not to leave him alone, and it better work. IT better not play tricks on poor Stanley, keep its nasty paws off the fragile man. “Keep an eye on him.” Bill tells Richie, and he nods.

“You too.” Richie says then, and Bill nods in response.

“We all better keep an eye on Stan.” Mike’s voice comes from behind his two friends and he pats their shoulders. They watch Stanley lowering down into the well, his hands shaking horribly, as if he’d be pulsing with electricity. Once his feet reach the hole in the well’s side, hands reach out to steady them. Stanley screams, assuming it’s probably the claws of IT or the monster IT’s taken form of, but his scream falls short when Y/N and Eddie speak up.

“It’s us, Stanley.” Eddie tells him, and it makes the tense in Stanley’s body disappear. He sighs deeply, closes his eyes, and lets himself climb into the hole and eventually let go of the rope. Y/N, Eddie and Beverly pull Stanley down and hold him.

“Okay, move to the back so everyone has space.” Beverly instructs to Stanley and Y/N, and so the pair move towards the end of the tubular cave. Y/N encircles Stanley’s neck with her arms and looks straight into his brown irises. But he can’t look back at her, and his eyes long to look out beyond the cave they’re laying in, but he doesn’t dare. He’s frozen looking at his hands, too scared and feeling too exposed to look Y/N in the eyes. 

Stanley starts to say something. “I… I…” but he can’t talk, he’s anxious, he’s too scared. His tongue is stuck and his throat is dry. Y/N feels he’s nearing a panic attack and falls into a slight panic, not knowing what to do. She grips his shoulders.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Y/N tells him in a whisper. “You’re here with me, you understand? You’re here with me, and you’re with your friends.” She says the only thinks she assumes could make sense to Stanley. Stanley’s lips still tremble and his breath comes short and hiccuped. But he looks at Y/N, and she knows then that her words have worked. 

“But I… I see everything here and I just…” Stanley gulps, “I remember being here as a kid. How scared I was. How much I’d wanted to stay outside, but also how I wanted to help. And then I got… I got distracted, I guess, I don’t know, and you guys weren’t there anymore! And then she just… She just came onto me. And I couldn’t… But I saw…”

Stanley’s face takes a horrified expression. It scares Y/N, her own eyes widening and cheeks going pale as snow. What did you see, Stanley? What did you see? But she shakes her head. “She’s not real, Stanley. She wasn’t then and she isn’t now.” She pauses, gulps and analyses Stanley’s face, searching for something that’d prove that her words are sticking. “If you can’t bear looking around, then look at me. Look at me, wherever. Wherever you find soothing.” She grips his shoulders a little tighter. “I won’t be going anywhere.” Y/N promises.

And finally, Stanley gives her a nod. She smiles, relieved. Stanley wipes his face over with his hands and suddenly leans in to kiss Y/N. It’s quick, leaves as quickly as it comes, but it’s just what he needs at the moment. He then hugs her. Stanley wants to ask her to promise him she’s not going anywhere, and he wants that promise to remain true during this whole ordeal, maybe even their lives. But he can’t ask of her that which neither of them can be a hundred percent sure of.

“Right, guys, it’s getting a little crowded in here.” Comes Richie’s voice from right next to Y/N and Stanley. They part and look at him. “We’re gonna have to move further out.” His words are true, and yet they are unpleasant for him to say and unpleasant for Stanley to hear. Y/N looks to him immediately, worried, but Stanley nods. 

He moves to sit on the cave’s edge and glares into the dark, muddy water. Stanley grips his flashlight and convinces himself not to follow his curiosity and shine it into the water. Instead Stanley simply jumps into the water and sighs when it wets his legs up to his knees. “Christ.” He mutters. I could have taken my shoes off and rolled up my pants. Whatever, doesn’t matter anymore. 

Stanley stuffs his flashlight into the back pocket of his partly wet pants and looks back up at Y/N. Some voice in his head is saying “She’s not there anymore. Richie isn’t, either, none of your friends are here. You’re all alone.” But he shakes it off and he sees her, her knees bent over the tubular cave’s edge, ready to jump down. Stanley takes her hips between his hands, a usual resting place for them, and lifts her down to his level. Her hands grip his shoulders as she comes down, and plops into the sewer water with a “plonk” and a sigh. She frowns seeing her own wet legs, but moves further away so the others could come down, too. 

Richie snickers. “You gonna play those moves on me, too, Stan the Man?” He asks Stanley, bending his knees to climb down, and Stanley only shakes his head in response. 

“In your dreams, Tozier.” Stanley tells him, and Richie even shoots him a troubled look. The look that a guilty person caught in doing something they shouldn’t be has in their eyes, this look that Stanley remembers seeing in Richie’s eyes anytime someone made an accusing or even offensive joke about Richie’s sexuality. And he remembers now why that is so. 

Richie, in turn, is a little suspicious of Stanley because of the earlier incident in the kitchen. But he trusts him still, he’s only curious, and in an unfamiliar way. He’s never held anything against Stanley nor has he ever been suspicious, so it’s weird to be even feeling this towards him. Stanley holds Richie’s forearms when he comes down and Richie drops in the water on his feet louder and heavier and makes the top of Stanley’s pants wet, as well as his shirt. Stanley sighs, but says nothing. Richie offers him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, man.” Richie says. A snarky comment about Stanley and Y/N’s sex life tickles the end of Richie’s tongue, and he’s eager to say it, but he decides against it and presses his lips together instead. In case the words decide to come out on their own accord.

“I think this is not the worst we’ll look tonight.” Stanley tells him. Richie nods, and he starts walking past Stanley, looking at his own legs slowly moving through the muddy water. Richie scowls. 

Stanley and Richie both help the rest of their friends get down into the sewer water, Ben coming down last. They have similar reactions to having their legs knee-deep in dirty water, but mostly they keep those to themselves. Except Eddie, as usual. He hasn’t changed in Y/N’s eyes.

“Richie, I don’t like this.” Eddie says to the friend he’s walking next to, a horribly twisted expression of disgust on his face. Richie says nothing while his friend gasps air from his aspirator, but then huffs.

“Is there anything I could do for you, your Majesty?” He speaks in a high-pitched voice with an added British accent. Most everyone sighs.

“Beep-beep, Richie.” Bill says, although Richie’s humorous mood seems to have dropped already. The Losers are quiet as they walk through the flooded sewer hallways, all their eyes are scanning what their flashlights cast light on. Trash in the water, writings on the damp walls, the dark ends of the hallways. 

Stanley’s hand tightly grips Y/N’s. He’s thinking about where the two of them would be now, in the case if things would turn out differently in the 90s. Would they be at a restaurant, at a movie? Maybe they’d be on vacation in Hawaii or Spain. Or in Buenos Aries like he and Patty had planned. Oh, Patty. Stanley hopes she’s sleeping now, and having good dreams. And he feels so sorry that they probably won’t be going to Buenos Aries. Although he doesn’t know. But…

Maybe if he never had these friends, he and Patty would be together now. Maybe if they had left Derry with killing IT, he and Patty would be taking their kids home from school and actually packing for Buenos Aries. And there’d be no phone call from Mike. But maybe he would be with Y/N. There are more possibilities, of course, and Stanley hasn’t explored half of them as options or ‘what-ifs’. But he wouldn’t mind living through every single one of them. 

Y/N made sure that she and Stanley aren’t the last ones walking in their group, she walks with Stan right after Mike and Ben. Mike seems to remember the way towards IT’s den best out of all his friends, Y/N thinks. But she’s wrong.

Even though Stanley lost his way in the sewers and got trapped in a certain spot for a few minutes back in 1989, he didn’t lose his coordination. He remembers the way well, as well as Mike, you could say. He has this certain intuition of where to go, which way to turn. And when the Losers reach an assistance room, Stanley gulps. He knew this room would come in their journey, but he still feared coming through it again. 

The others don’t seem to remember that it’s where Stanley had his straight encounter with IT and the Deadlights, but the memory comes to them slowly. And they glance at Stanley warily. He doesn’t meet their eyes, though he knows they are looking at him. He’s not fond of this attention and only looks down at his feet. 

Somehow now, he feels the sides of his face, where IT had bit him, start to hurt. Again. Stanley touches his left cheek with his free hand and feels the scars there again. They are making lines across the side, and even feels blood drawing from them. Stanley’s eyes quickly widen and he draws back his hand to look at it. But there’s no blood on his fingers. He breathes a sigh of relief shakily, and Y/N hears it. She looks to him. 

“What is it?” She asks in a whisper. 

Despite that Stanley heard her, there’s another voice he hears louder. And he looks over his shoulder in the voice’s direction. He sees only the dark and he’s afraid to shine his flashlight to see if something’s really there. It sounds awfully like Edith.

“Hey, Stanley! I’m still here.” The voice whispers, and chuckles a menacing giggle. “Wanna see the rest of your friends floating? I’ve got them all here.” The voice teases Stanley, and another trembling sigh leaves his mouth. “Your future is still the same, kike boy.” IT says. Stanley huffs.

And he sees once again what he saw twenty-seven years ago. What his wife would have seen if Y/N hadn’t called him. 

A bath filled with bloody water, already turning from a soft pink to a deep red from the quantity of blood mixing with the bathwater. A man, a grown-up boy, with dark curls and dark, crying eyes laying in it. Both his arms are hanging over the edges, each on its own side. Stanley doesn’t feel like he recognises the man at first, doesn’t feel like he knows him. When he was little, seeing this horrible image, Stanley actually didn’t recognise him. But now he knows well who it is.

The man’s wrists are heavily bleeding, deep red cuts made into them with a razor that is dropped to the floor. Blood drops still form around it. 

On the wall, there’s a name written in blood. A name that needs no reading, cause Stanley already knows what it says. And there’s chanting around the man, chanting in Stanley’s ears. It’s hundreds and thousands of children chanting one thing. There are also words that Stanley’s friends said in the summer of 1989, there’s words that they didn’t say but they sure sound like their real voices. 

“You know your fate, Stanley! You’ll float too!”


	11. deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Losers get closer and closer to IT, venturing through the depths of Derry sewers. Some have moments of doubt, others are there to comfort and support them. Nothing less can be expected when you're miles under Derry, earth and sunlight.

“Stanley, are you seeing something?” Y/N now asks with certainty, her heart and mind deeply worried for the man whose hand she’s holding. He eventually turns his face back to her, but she does not recognise the brave man that went down the well with her. She sees a scared boy. Tears border his eyes, but Y/N will not see them travel over. 

She gives a few gentle wipes to Stanley’s eyes and then returns to her place at his side, continuing to move in the midst of their group. Y/N knows she’s not received an answer to her question. But she does not worry. The answer will come, she knows, at some point. In the mean time, she squeezes and holds Stanley’s stiff, sweaty hand.

His answer comes only a minute later, and it’s so silent out of his own embarrassment and fear that she has to lean up towards him to hear it. “I saw myself.” Stanley tells her. “In the bath.” He pauses. “Again.” He knows it’ll be a surprise for her to hear this, so he speaks the word even quieter than the previous ones. Y/N is surprised and for a second, she turns to look at him, but turns back immediately. She fears that somehow she’ll see the same horror he’s seen.

“Again?” She whispers. Stanley nods with eyes closed.

“I saw it all those years ago, right there, in that horrible room we passed through.” He tells her. “I saw…” Stanley takes a sharp breath, as if hiccuping, and then continues, “I saw all of us… die. Only, until now, I didn’t know it was us I saw. I didn’t recognise anyone. But now the picture is clear. I recognise them. My friends.” Stanley sighs deeply, Y/N feels he might throw up from the way his lips and cheeks shake in his sigh.

Beverly’s hand comes gently onto Stanley’s shoulder, but the man is frightened by this sudden touch, jumping as he turns around. He meets Beverly’s eyes as does Y/N, but they hold a strong connection. “You weren’t the only one.” Beverly tells Stanley in her sweet voice. “I was caught in the Deadlights, too, remember?”

Stanley nods. That was the reason they came back to Neibolt that summer, Beverly was the reason. And mostly Bill’s and the Losers’ love for her, too. “You’ve seen the same, yeah?” Stanley asks. Beverly nods, and holds a comforting, knowing look in her eyes for Stanley.

“I still saw everything every night I slept. You’d say nightmares, but I’d say… Well, the possible future.” She admits, now with glassy eyes and a shrug.

“Could-have-beens.” Stanley agrees, both he and Beverly nod. “Now we make sure those things never happen, Bev.” He states, and Beverly nods. Stanley clasps his hand over Beverly’s for a short moment and the three keep walking.

“Oh, shit.” Echoes Richie’s voice in a much wider space than the sewer tunnels. Y/N tries to see what Richie’s seen or where they’ve ventured into. Then she spots a familiar sort-of place. “It’s his layer.” Richie states and turns around to his friends, pointing into the open room. 

That truly is ITs layer before their eyes. But it’s flooded with greywater now, up till the Losers’ waists (save Richie, Mike and Stan, who are tall as trees). Plus, there’s no floating kids or toys. The top of the room, the well, you could say, has grown closed with weeds and flowers. Pennywise has had a good twenty-seven-years sleep, everything’s basically closed down around him. Isolation.

“We must get there.” Mike tells his friends, pointing towards the layer, and they all nod. As the water level rises, Stanley and Y/N hold hands tighter and lock eyes even for a moment. Stanley holds Y/N’s waist, holding her in front of him to stay together, when they walk into the huge room. Y/N feels all sorts of small obstacles touching her feet and legs on her way, and each gives her a small terror. 

“I can’t do it. I can’t do it.” She shakes her head and Stanley bends his head down to hers over her shoulder. She can’t walk here, she can’t see where she’s walking, she can’t see what’s next to her legs and it scares her to death.

“What is it?” He inquires softly. Y/N shakes her head, and while she’s mustering up her answer, she feels something closing around one of her feet. She screams and tries to jerk her foot up, but the thing has a firm hold onto it. “Y/N!”

“Something’s got my leg!” She panics. All her friends turn to her with panicked eyes and immediately, without taking another beat, all dive underneath, including Richie (who had already gotten himself on the ‘island’ of ITs layer), but except… “Eddie?” Y/N, in her own panic caused by that something growing around her lower leg, notices that Eddie’s pose and facial expression only means panic, as well. “What’s wrong? Is it–is it the water?”

Eddie shakes his head furiously. “They’re all gonna die, they’re all gonna… Man, I don’t wanna be alone here.” He rants. Y/N shakes her head, crying, too. 

“Eddie, it’s going to be okay.” She tells him, though she’s so deep in fear that she thinks Eddie can see that it’s a lie. Tears stream down both their faces. “You’re not alone.” Suddenly, Y/N feels her feet free of the twig-lock that had captured them, and she lets out a cry of relief. Her friends pop out of the water one by one the next second, all gasping for air and clinging onto Y/N. She nearly collapses into the water out of crying, but Stanley and Bill hold tightly her shoulders so she wouldn’t.

“Y-you okay, Y/N?” Bill asks her, wiping the water off his face. 

“That was one hell of a twig.” Richie says, sighs and leans to the left to get water out of his ear. “Lucky we had Ben’s Swiss knife.” 

“I don’t wanna be stuck down here.” Y/N’s head drops into her hands, she whimpers still. Stanley’s arms wrap around her frigid shoulders and he helps her walk up to the island.

“You can walk, baby.” He tells her. Their friends walk through the muddy water in a quicker pace, strength and bravery both in their hearts and bodies. Y/N has to make sure she can walk at first, only then can she really walk with Stanley. “You won’t be stuck in here. I’ll make sure of it.” 

Y/N can only cry out at his words. They mean everything to her because she loves Stanley ever so much. And god, she doesn’t wanna do any of this, but she does want to end IT so she won’t have to be afraid for the rest of her life. She wants her friends to live, but she wants the ritual to be successful. Who knows what this will cost? Fate is unpredictable, but IT is more unpredictable.

Stanley helps Y/N climb onto the island of forgotten toys and a once-was wooden ship or trailer. The facade is unrecognisable, so they don’t know what it was. Honestly, it looks like the carcass of ribs belonging to a big creature, the size of a whale. Mike guides his friends towards the center of the carcass. There lies a circular–what’s that? A door?–with a symbol on it. The symbol is engraved, and it’s in the color red. 

“So, Mike, what do we do now?” Richie asks, looking to the man in question after examining the wooden door himself.

“In the depth is where IT crept.” Mike says, his eyes fixed on the symbol. Mike mutters words his friends can’t quite pick up, for they’re spoken in hushed, quick whispers, and they sound like a chant, a sort of mantra. 

“Is he okay?” Ben whispers in a volume that would seem silent to the chanting Mike, and Richie turns his head to the brazilian-football-players-rolled-into-one man.

“At this point, it’s a good question.” Richie decides with a nervous nod.

“It’s some kind of door.” Stanley says after he’s stepped closer to the symbol door. His eyes are analysing it, trying to find out if he knows what it means or if he knows where it’s coming from. 

“What’s on the other side?” Asks Beverly, turning to Mike for the answer. He’s a guide for them, for the Losers and their plan of what to do next. After all, Mike was the one who stayed, and he’s the one that knows the history of Derry and IT best.

But Mike shrugs. “Don’t know. No one does.” He says and after a few beats, he carelessly swings open the door–it is a door!–and makes his friends gasp. Anything could be under that door, anything could have jumped out from under it.

“M-Mike.” Bill tries to tell him it wasn’t really a thought-over action from him, but they can’t stop him. The Losers carefully look past the wooden door. Looks like a tunnel is unwinding underneath it, a dark tunnel. Y/N even thinks for a second something crept down the tunnel right after Mike opened the door. Something might have, or it might not have - she’s in Neibolt, anything could be real or just as well the result of her manipulated mind. 

The tunnel is dirty, old and wet. Y/N looks oddly to Eddie, and if he wasn’t clearly panicking before, he surely is now. She knows what he’s thinking.

“I’m not going down there.” Eddie says and warily looks around his friends. The first his eyes land on is, of course, Richie, and he puffs. But their attention is diversed when Mike sits down, his legs in the tunnel already.

“Yo…” Ben tries to say warningly, but Mike slinks further into the tunnel. Further out of the Losers’ reach.

“Alright, see you then.” Mike says and disappears completely into the dark. His friends panic, vocalising their fear and worries for his life in group unison, but when Mike’s feet touch a stone in the tunnel’s wall and he looks back at his friends, they fall silent. He’s okay. Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. Mike’s eyes seem to be voicing begging towards his friends. A prayer of sorts, that they stay true to their word, and stay together. Like they promised. And like they know it’s the only way this will work.

“St-stick together.” Bill says, already in half a squat down towards the tunnel. Y/N sighs, exhausted but ready to go, and beats Bill to going right behind Mike. Stanley’s hand grabs onto her wrist when Y/N is in the tunnel up to her neck, and the grab makes her cry out softly. Only for a moment, though, until she looks at who the hand belongs to. Stanley’s unsure, and Y/N sees it in his eyes.

“Come on.” She tells him in a whisper and slips out of his grasp to move further down the tunnel. He huffs, his lips smacking together and cheeks blowing full. What if she goes down there and gets lost? What if she’s the second to die, after Mike? What if they’re climbing straight into the jaws of death through this tunnel? And they only find out after there’s no coming back up? Oh, fuck.

Carefully, Bill and Ben lower themselves down into the dark tunnel, and there’s Stanley, Bev, Eddie and Richie left to go. And when Eddie wheezes, Richie gives him a worried look. Yeah, the comedian doesn’t wanna go down there, either, so he knows how Eddie feels. Well, up til some point.

“You guys, I can’t do it.” Eddie starts saying with another shake of his head. He’s looking down when Stanley and Bev glance at him. “I can’t.” Another wheeze. His breath and words are starting to grow shorter. “You saw me–I’m just–I’m just gonna get us all killed.”

What he wants to say is that Eddie knows he is a coward, and he knows he’s too weak to fight or even help or even climb down a damn creepy tunnel. He knows this, and he knows that cowardness can cost everything. But he’s not gonna put his friends’ lives on that list. Not today. Not ever. He’s out, he must go back, he must go home and let them do what they can to kill IT. But you know it doesn’t work that way, Eddie Spaghetti. One puppet falls off the stage, they all do. Like dominoes.

Eddie clings to his aspirator for dear life when he lifts it up again to take a few shots, but Richie stops him mid-way. “Give me that.” Richie hisses at his best friend, and Stanley helps him hold Eddie when asthmatic protests.

“Richie, just let me–”

“Give me that, you little turd–”

“Eddie, you don’t need that!” Stanley joins in.

“Just let me get one more–” Eddie almost succeeds in sucking in another fabricated breath from the aspirator, but Stanley and Richie manage to take it from him. Richie tucks the aspirator in his jacket pocket while Eddie is watching. “Man, you know–You know I can’t–”

“The hell you can’t breathe without your aspirator, Eddie!” Stanley exclaims at his friend. Eddie is shocked, and he simply stares at Stanley with his big brown eyes. Richie does the same, only his face also bares worry for Stanley and his well-being. “You know you can do it without the damn thing.” 

“Yeah, man,” Richie joins in, remembering how he and Eddie needed to do without his aspirator on the day Bowers broke Eddie’s nose in the Barrens. Bill was on his way to get another one from Mr Keene, and Richie had to make do with the half hour Eddie would have without his “asthma machine”, “you count with me, alright? Remember–on one, you inhale, on two - you exhale. One…”

As Stanley holds his right shoulder, and Richie - his left shoulder, Eddie breathes in and out, and, slowly, can breathe on his own. “Listen to me,” Richie starts to say, strongly looking into Eddie’s eyes, “you had a moment, but you’re fine.” Richie firmly states. Eddie’s eyes are still on his feet. “But who killed a psychotic clown before he was fourteen?” 

Unwilling to actually accept it, and the fact that he’s brave enough to have done that, Eddie looks around and purses his lips. “Me.”

“Who stabbed Bowers with a knife he pulled out of his own face?” Richie continues. He speaks his questions with such pride in his best friend he can barely contain himself. 

Eddie starts to think, Hey, maybe I’m not such a coward after all. I’ve done some great shit. He shuts his eyes. “Also me.” He answers Richie with a curt nod.

“Who married a woman ten times his own body mass?” Richie asks and Stanley shakes his head with a–is that a smile?–on his lips tugging curiously. Eddie’s confident now, and he even straightens his posture and looks Richie in the eyes. 

“Me.” Eddie says now pretty proudly. Richie smiles fondly at him and tilts his own head slightly, his grip on Eddie’s shoulder tightening up. 

“You’re braver than you think, man,” Richie tells him, “and we need you, we need this brave man that you are.” Richie informs him, and Eddie nods. 

“Thanks, Rich.” He says, and the two words are so sincere that you could see the sincerity physically if you looked upon Eddie in that moment. Stanley pats Eddie’s frail shoulder strongly and then he, Eddie and Richie engulf in a group hug of sorts. Richie and Stan’s arms are around Eddie’s shoulders while Eddie’s own arms are by his sides. 

Now Stanley’s started to worry what’s going on with Y/N and how far she has actually gotten. He glares down into the tunnel, but sees only Ben’s head and shoulders. Anxieties for what could be at the end of the tunnel shake his legs and hands as they try their hardest to hold onto the walls of the vertical tunnel. They’re slippery, and the feeling that Stanley’s fingers give him from touching the walls is one of being inside someone or something’s mouth. He shudders.

Now, Stanley has never been a climber, nor has he ever went climbing, not even once, but he’s not doing so bad at getting down this tunnel. Out of fear, his foot does accidentally slip over a stone here and there, but he finds the right places to place his feet and hands on to be secure, and gets down to the bottom of the tunnel pretty calmly, pretty quickly. Once he drops to the floor in a squat, he moves out of the way for Beverly, who comes down out of the tunnel after him soon. Stanley’s eyes immediately look for Y/N’s form or face, and he finds her next to Bill and Ben, already heading after Mike. But where is he going?

Y/N finds Stanley as he looks wonderingly into the small cave Bill and Mike are crawling through, and she takes his hand. He glances at her, wavering for a second, but she nods at him. They head towards the small opening hand in hand, crawling on their stomachs and groaning when they go through the narrow gap. Stanley goes through first to give Y/N a softer exit and landing on the strange ground another room provides. Stanley grips Y/N’s forearms when she squeezes through, she twists her face and grips Stanley’s arms in turn out of struggle. She lands on her feet, and sighs in relief. But when her eyes see the floor beneath her feet, she scowls again. 

“What the fuck is this?” She cries softly. Stanley looks down, too, and raises his eyebrows. 

“Damn, what is that?” He agrees with a question of his own. The ground under them looks like… Huh. Neither of them can find words to describe it. At first, looks like sand, but it doesn’t feel like sand under their feet. And then, they notice some sort of recurring element on the ground, almost like a skin or the inner lay of some creature. 

The room is dark, and it’s huge, enormous, much bigger than the sewer room they climbed down from. Stanley shines his flashlight toward what’s in front of them, and he and Y/N both see Mike, Bill, Ben and… something else. Looks like a frozen explosion from a landing of some sort. They can’t yet see what had landed here, they cannot see what’s in the middle. But Stanley guesses it’s from ITs landing. The explosion looks like tons of spikes reaching toward the Losers. They’re still coming into the room one by one.

“This is where IT hid.” Mike informs his friends, looking back at them. Stanley thinks, ah, my intuition was right. The rest of the Losers only now take in how huge the place is, and bend their necks to see where the supposed ceiling should be. But there is none. Richie sees that, gaping through his glasses at a nonexistent top of the room, trying to find it with his flashlight, but it’s got no end or opening or anything.

Eddie bares the bad luck of almost tripping over a skeleton head and some human bones, which gives him great terror for the few seconds he spends on looking at them. Then his wandering eyes examine the whole place, and his mouth hangs open. “So… all this has been under Derry, like… forever?” He asks, looking over at Mike.

“Not forever. Just a few million years.” Mike answers him.

“Huh.” Y/N hums. “Yeah, that’s clearly very far from forever.” She says, her eyes still on the horribly dark and never-ending room. 

“Hey, you stole my joke.” Richie complains. Beverly seems to notice a small detail that occurs in places and people that IT haunts - some sort of substance is covering the spikes and it’s dripping upwards in drops, defying gravity. Floating. The mere sight makes her shiver.

As the Losers follow Mike around and deeper into the spikes’ maze, Y/N notices a linear pattern on them and holes, too. Not that she’s sure it means something, it’s something that catches her eyes. Mike leads his friends towards the center of the maze, where they all slowly form a circle. Mike crouches down, opens his bag and takes out the ritual pyramid-thingy while the Losers wait on him for further instructions.There seems to be a piedestal in the center of where they’re standing, seemingly just for this moment. Mike places the leather pyramid on the piedestal and looks at all his friends.

“IT can only be attacked in its true form.” He tells them, and the words “attacked” stay in all their hearts and eyes. The thought that they’ll have to attack something that’s made them weak now, made them weak before and has been stealing the ingredients of a perfect life all these years spent away from Derry. They’re scared. How can they attack IT? They’re weak, they’re sure of it, IT is old and strong and evil, and there’s a bigger chance of him winning than the Losers Club.

This fear is, indeed, in all their eyes. But they pull themselves together, or at least tell themselves to do so, and face the truth that they’ve come here to do it and that maybe, maybe they can, after all, be stronger than IT and attack it. Kill it, if they’re lucky. But they’re stronger than IT when they’re together. Eight against one, the proportion, seems to end it all already, but not if that one is IT, its powers and the Deadlights. But they can try.


	12. artifacts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ritual of Chüd unfolds. Or does it?

“The ritual will show us that.” Mike says, looking up at his friends from his squatting position. Beverly and Y/N look upon the prysm-thingy fearfully, Beverly even gasps. Ben looks pointedly at Mike, tilting his head.

“And what is ITs true form, exactly?” He questions, sounding tired, already wanting all of this to be over. Don’t we all.

“I hope it’s a puppy.” Richie admits, nodding earnestly. Y/N rolls her eyes, Beverly only has the strength to look at him. Everyone else sighs. “Pomeranian.” Mike looks puzzedly at Richie. The comedian nods after looking at his friends and seeing their reactions. “I’ll shut up.” Silence from a person who constantly talks is not a good sign, but sometimes ya really need to shut your gob. Richie can’t help it, really, spitting jokes even more frequently when he’s nervous, afraid.

All while Mike looks at the prysm box with hypnotised eyes. Most of his friends are really worried about his well-being. His well-being if you don’t count his childhood traumatised by something from another realm and right now being in that exact creature’s lair. He looks sick. Obsessed. “It’s light.” Mike states. Upon not hearing from his friends, he looks up at them again, his eyes overcast with that sickly fanatism. Did they not catch the trick in this? “Light that must be stuffed out by darkness.” He continues calmly, in a whisper. Y/N and Stanley exchange glances, Stanley watching her inhale deeply. He puffs and looks back at Mike.

He’s pouring fuel or oil–Y/N can’t tell–into the prysm box, pouring it in circles, waving the can around a little. Then he lights a match and throws it into the box, which causes an angry fire to light. Everyone backs away a little, squinting. Now, at least, there’s some warmth in the place. It was near freezing. Eddie shuts out his flashlight, as does Stanley and Bill. There’s a source of light now, as well.

“Your artifacts.” Mike says. He stands up to his full height, joining the circle. “Place them in the fire. Past must burn with the present.” He explains, saying something, Y/N presumes, that he’s again gotten from some holy text book. She shivers

The Losers search their pockets for the artifacts they’ve found today. Y/N pulls at the wristband she put on herself a few hours earlier, she struggles a little to open the restraints, but after some groaning and pulling, she gets it off. She sighs. She looks over at Beverly. She’s running her fingers over a postcard. Ben’s opening a folded paper. Eddie’s already holding his artifact, the aspirator. Y/N can’t see what Richie’s got, but there’s something he holds between his fingers, very small. Mike’s got a rock in hand. Stanley’s holding a blue kippah and looking at it intensely. There’s a dazed look in his eyes, a look of also confusion. Almost like he can’t understand the thing he’s holding.

Bill unfolds a paper boat. SS Georgie is written on it in Bill’s–as a teen–beautiful, neat hand-writing. Stanley’s hand-writing was the prettiest out of all of them, though Bill and Eddie could compete. “Ah, this is the…” Bill raises the little boat up so his friends could see, “the boat that I built with G-Juh–” he gets pissed at himself, his face turning to white anger, and steps closer to the fire, tired of his own stutter. “Georgie.” Bill finishes and puts, with an easy hand, the SS in the fire pit. It doesn’t birth sparks when it’s eaten up by the flame, but the air stinks of wax now. Bill stands back in the circle, looking a bit unsure and pissed off. Do we have to say what the artifact represents? Really?

Eddie triggers his artifact. “It’s, uh… my inhaler.” He says, as if everyone couldn’t see that already. He triggers it down his throat one last time, fearfully looking at his friends and hesitates a little to burn it. 

Richie groans. “Come on, dude.” He tries to rush Eddie, speaking for everyone when he does, longing for this to be done as quick as possible. As if he’s got somewhere really important to be, something more important to do than to kill a million-year old other-wordly creature that has devoured children, the Losers’ Club’s childhoods and adult lives and will devour more if they don’t stop it. But, he probably wants to be home. Wherever that is now. 

Eddie throws his inhaler into the firepit and, oh God, does it stink! Plastic, metal, what else–? This must some different type of plastic cause it stinks like a dead body.

“Something that I wish I had held onto.” Beverly says. While she speaks, she dreams memories of first reading the postcard’s content, and she dreams of what would have happened, what would have changed if she had held onto it. Bill and Ben both look at her, and then at each other. But Beverly doesn’t see that, she’s putting the postcard, as much as she doesn’t want to, into the fire.

Ben’s deep voice starts roaring through the huge room, filling it whole with the sound. “Uh, this is a page from my… yearbook.” He says and unfolds it further. “Only one person signed.” He states with a barely audible chuckle. Beverly glances his way. “I probably should have forgotten it.” He admits, thinking he’s being foolish, or silly, that he still has it and still does hold onto it. “I couldn’t, cause I kept it in my wallet.” Another chuckle comes from him as he explains. “For twenty-seven years.” Ben then admits further, feeling ashamed, hence speaking quieter as to only himself. Richie widens his eyes.

Y/N steps towards the fire once it’s eaten up Ben’s page. She raises the little bracelet up. “This is a bracelet from my last ever marathon.” She states and sighs. She looks at the bracelet closely. 7249. “Honestly surprised that it was still here. But I shouldn’t be.” She admits and throws the artifact into the box. It smells, too, when it burns, and horribly. Silicone, plastic. Gah.

Y/N watches and smells her childhood fear, sort of, burning. The worst nightmare she thought at the time that she lived through. No one else here except Stanley knew about it. They knew of her running, of course, they knew about her marathons and trophies and medals. But they didn’t know what hid behind those wonderful things, that wonderful success. The reason she actually was running in the first place, and why she fell in love with the idea.

Richie gets his artifact process over quite quickly. He almost mumbles the words, quick and under his breath, that his friends barely understood. “This is a token from the Capitol theatre.” He throws it into the fire when he’s not even through talking. Y/N bets he’s either afraid to talk about what it means to him, or ashamed. But Stanley knows why. He knows Richie so well. And he speaks that fast and in that way only about one certain thing. Stanley narrows his eyes at Richie.

“Wait, you brought an actual token?” Eddie asks, worried about the material. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, man, that’s what we’re supposed to do, asshole.” Richie speaks just as fast as before, his short-temper and slight anger coming to the surface as he speaks.

“Do you have any idea how long that’s gonna take to burn?” Eddie points out, squinting his eyes sceptically at Richie. Richie sighs.

“So is your inhaler, dude,” Richie argues.

“Guys, come on, you’re not making this go any faster.” Stanley tries to stop the useless arguing. Richie’s got something a little more to say.

“All the toxic fumes and the plastic and shit, so…” Richie finishes on a continuing note. Mike pays not mind to them at all, even having to stand between them. He raises the rock up to everyone’s view.

“Look closely, Bev.” Mike says. Beverly steps and looks closer to the rock. “Do you see it?” Mike questions. Beverly nods. “That’s where you hit Bowers.” Mike tells the others. Beverly has the faint hint of a proud smile on her face, she even gives an airy chuckle in response. Y/N mouths a ‘wow’.

“Rock fight.” Beverly remembers. Even Bill smiles.

Mike’s expression doesn’t falter. “The day that these bonds were forged.” He says. Y/N almost sighs. Why is he talking like some poet? Like a philosopher or an old Englishman? He’s definitely read too many ancient books.

“That’s not gonna burn, either.” Eddie whispers as Mike drops the rock into the fire.

Stan steps forward and raises his kippah so everyone could see it. “This is a kippah my mother gave to me. A symbolicly and religiously meaningful thing for me in the family it was. But before college I gave it back to my dad. I bet he was really disappointed when he found it.” Stanley sighs and holds the kippah over the fire. It’s really beautiful, and he doesn’t want such a beauty burned and gone. He’d never wear it, of course, but if he doesn have children by some miracle, he’d love to give it to his son. But it must be burned. So Stanley closes his eyes and drops it into the fire.

“Okay.” Mike extends his arms to the friends standing on either side of him. “Grab hands.” At this, everyone’s a bit confused. What are they, kids? And what exactly are they doing in this ritual of whatever? Are they gonna bind hands and sing some folk song to chase the fears and the demon away? These questions are going through all of their heads. “Come on.” Mike says softly, and everyone starts to join hands.

This reminds Y/N suddenly, she remembers now, the oath they made in 1989. They were standing like this, in a circle, hands joined. But it was brighter. It was warmer. It was happier, more hopeful. What did they swear to? Her left hand itches as if responding to the memory calling, the hand of the scar that appeared some few days ago talking back to the memory. Out of instinct, she looks to Stanley, as she always did in her times of trouble. He looks like he’s remembering that, too. Their eyes touch softly. He seems to read what she wants to say from her face simply. Stanley nods. I remember that, too. They wonder if their friends remember that, too, now.

“The ritual of Chüd. It’s a battle of wills.” Mike looks around his friends to see if they understand. He nods very subtly. “The first step was our union.” The calls. The crying. The remembering that they’ve forgot. The journey. Jade at the Orient. Fortune Cookies. Derry Holiday Inn. “The second—“ Mike gulps, “—was the gathering of tokens.” Synagogue. Old apartment. Capitol Theatre. Mr Keene’s. Sewer. Derry High. Derry woods. The Barrens. “This is the final step.” Mike’s voice drops a little deeper on the word ‘final’. Beverly nods, so does Stanley. He’s sure to do this, he’s gotta do it, they’ve got to finish IT once and for all. So that no kid dies. So that no kid grows up like they did. So that no one turns out like them because of IT. For the freedom of Derry and its people.

The fire goes out. No light, no warmth, so suddenly. Y/N gasps. “What the-“ Richie starts to say, but then a ground-shattering sound resonates through the huge lair. It comes from up above. Everyone looks up. Something bright is emerging from the very top, if they can even see the top. They’re so small and the ‘ceiling’ of this place seems hundreds of miles up high. But they can see something.

The brightness allows them to see the inside walls of the place. They’re wet, sort of slimy, and covered with teeth. Not human size teeth, no, and certainly not human teeth size. They’re the kind that sharks have - sharp, look like needles. But these teeth, presumably ITs, are big and they look very sharp. Like a huge mouth.

“The fuck is that?” Bill asks, hoping one of his friends would hear.

“The Deadlights.” Someone mutters. Or did someone speak inside his head? Did someone tell them it’s the deadlights inside all their heads?

“Don’t look at them!” Mike tells them. “Don’t look at them!” He screams it this time. Everyone turns their heads away as best they can and shuts their eyes. “Turn light into dark. Say it! Say it!”

“Say WHAT?” Y/N screams back at Mike.

“Say it!” Mike responds. Y/N would have screamed again, if it wasn’t for Bill’s and Stan’s quick catching up.

“Turn light into dark.” They say in unison with Mike. Everyone starts chanting. Stanley grips Y/N’s hand tighter, he feels the circle becoming bigger, therefore more loose. He’s not about to lose their union.

“Turn light into dark. Turn light into dark.” Y/N chants, having no idea what that means or what that will do, but believing it can do something since Mike and Bill said it’s the only way to finish IT. “Turn light into dark. Turn light into dark!” Her voice gets louder as her belief rises and so strengthens. “Turn light into dark!” The more she says it, the louder she gets and the less sense the words make. When you’ve said one word over and over, it doesn’t sound like a word, it’s just a sound. For a moment, she even slips and mixes syllables with places.

Mike starts chanting, hopefully the same saying, in another language. Something that sounds native, ancient, unknown but familiar. The Losers feel the lights coming down closer to them, they almost shine through everyone’s eyelids, making it ten times harder not to look. The sound coming from the lights isn’t anywhere near soothing, either, it’s horrible, and probably comes from their process of circling around each other, however many there are. The sound is like knife against knife, but then again it sounds very mechanical, like when gears are turning against one another. The Losers will definitely be blind and deaf after this, in the best case.

“Turn light into dark Mike what’s happening man?!” Richie interrupts his chanting. Y/N curses him. This will probably cost us a lot, Trashmouth.

“Keep chanting! Turn light into dark!” Mike gives him the only so-far available option. Richie settles for that and keeps chanting, though he may not be believing in what he’s saying as much as before.

Suddenly, the light disappears and so does the sound. Y/N feels like she can breathe again, and she stops chanting in order to use that opportunity. Mike lets go of Richie’s and Eddie’s hands to take the lid and place it on the prysm box. Bill is still chanting, as well as Eddie, his eyes still closed.

“Is it working? Did we do it?” Eddie asks in a loud, panicked voice. Mike tries to keep the lid closed, pressing down with all his might, but something won’t let him. Y/N and Stanley, still holding hands, step forward to see what’s holding the lid back. Something red.

“Mike, is this a part of it?” Beverly asks, worried. Her voice has changed from sure, but soft to thin and scared. It’s something red and stretchy.

“Mike, is this supposed to be happening?” Richie asks, really suspicious of Mike and unsure he hears anything his friends are saying. Richie looks the most alarmed of all of them, he’s noticed something about Mike that’s not making so much sense or more, about the prysm box.

“Keep chanting!” Mike commands in spite of him losing belief himself, Y/N can see it in his eyes. It’s gone, he’s plain improvising, he didn’t plan something like this, his hypnotised, sick obsession is back in his eyes, as well as numbness. “Keep chanting!”

“Keep chanting, come on, turn light into dark!” Bill urges his friends, supporting Mike and holding his shoulders from behind him. The Losers once again start chanting, even more confused and unsure.

“Turn light into dark! Turn light into dark!”

That doesn’t step the red jelly, wax, slime—whatever it is—from growing in size. Beverly whimpers. Y/N wants to hold her hand, but Ben stands between them, so she can’t comfort her girlfriend. “What’s happening?” Beverly asks, and Y/N realises she’s crying, desperate and scared beyond belief.

Richie notices the red substance is about to burst full-size, however long, out of the box and onto them. “Hey, hey, WOAH!” Richie manages just in time to grab onto one of the spikes coming out of the ground as he falls over. Mike can’t keep the lid on anymore and he lets the red jelly come out of the box fully. It’s so big it sends everyone to the floor. Stanley holds Y/N tightly to him as they fall together. But the red doesn’t stop, it keeps growing. The Losers run—some alone, some with someone—as best they can through the spikes.

They make it off the piedestal, Y/N and Stanley together, the others scattered. Y/N glances back at the red thing - it turns out to be a balloon. Of course, how could they not have forseen it? And it’s growing bigger by the second. When it reaches the piedestal’s size, its spiked edges, it still doesn’t pop like it should. Sure it’s not! You’re in Derry, in Neibolt, in ITs lair, it will never be a regular balloon. There won’t be enough room for it to fill, the Losers will never outrun the balloon. She panics. They will be suffocated to death.

Suddenly, an abnormally loud bang that is similar to someone cutting into a chalkboard happens, and everyone falls again from its impact. They’re all unconscious for a moment, but Y/N gets up, she pulls herself to. She nudges Stanley and calls his name, then she realises she can’t hear herself. Or anything else for that matter. She looks around. It’s complete darkness around her. How will she know when or if Stanley’s conscious?

But she starts to feel movement next to her. She hopes to God IT isn’t in the place Stanley’s supposed to be in. She grabs the flashlight from the ground between them, hits it a few times and it turned on. Stanley’s voice, she hears, sounds like a faded voice, like behind a wall or at the end of the hallway or at the end of a song. She screams his name, and her hearing slowly comes back to her. Now Y/N feels a headache roll into the jug of her problems. Stanley’s probably got one, too.

She squats, then grabs Stanley by his shoulders. He takes hold of her forearms and she pulls him upwards with her. She feels him exhale a deep breath on her forehead. “Are you feeling okay?” She screams since Stanley’s hearing is coming slower than hers, and hers isn’t completely back, either. Stanley nods.

“I can’t hear properly, though!”

“It’ll come back! You hold onto my hand!” Y/N says and starts leading them that she thinks is the direction their friends are. She hears faint voices, faint callings of names - theirs, others - she can’t tell apart. Stanley grips Y/N’s hand just as tight as she holds his as they make their way through the darkness. Their flashlight comes across Eddie’s shoes. “Eddie!” She yells and the shoes turn round for Eddie to face her. She flashes the light in his eyes to check if it truly is Eddie.

“Y/N! Stanley!”

“Eddie!” A further voice calls. The three run to it. It’s Richie, Ben, Bill and Beverly. Y/N almost smiles. “Hey, hey!”

“Hey! Is everyone okay?”

“Is everybody okay?”

“Can you hear anything?”

“Is everyone here?”

“Where’s Mike?”

“Mike! Mike?”

“Mikey, where are you?”

It was a mess of exchanged words and questions due to the half-deaf ears of everyone. Soon enough, the set was completed by Mike, he came running towards them until they heard his footsteps and turned their flashlights to him.

“Hey, hey!”

“Mike!”

“Hey, guys, I’m here, I’m here.”

“You good?”

“Shit.”

“Think so.”

“Did we do it?” Eddie is the first to speak once their ears have regained hearing. “Did we do it yet? Did we do it?” He looks at them all, almost as if holding an interrogation. Mike is silent. Everyone else is, too. They’re waiting for Mike to tell them the answer.

“We-we-we put the tokens in the… the thing. That’s good, right?” Richie adds on, his voice optimistic for the first time in this reunion ‘party’. Beverly hits her flashlight a few times, because it did not work the first time she pressed the button, and it turns on finally. She movies it around finally to see what the place looks like now, if it has changed, if they’re alone and maybe if they’re somewhere else.

Same old, same old ITs ugly lair. In a flash of the light towards the spikes of the piedestal, the clown’s face appears between the slits. Everyone screams and jumps back. Eddie’s jaw about to fall apart from the screaming he’s doing, loud but squealing. Stanley stands in front of Y/N, his hands on her protectively. She can barely see anything of IT. She gets a peak, though, by glancing between Stanley and Beverly.

“Oh, shit!” Bill says.

“SHIT!” Richie isn’t hesitating to scream out his voice.

The clown smiles menacingly. “Ooooh, did it work, Mikey?” IT teases and slowly moves around behind the spikes. “Did it work?” ITs voice raises in pitch. The clown laughs, teasingly, taking the piss of the Losers and Mike’s wondrous ritual. “Tell them whyyy your silly-little-ritual didn’t work.” Ben and Beverly stand closer to Y/N and Stanley, scared equally as much as they are. Y/N’s brave enough to stand next to Stanley, not behind him. Stanley doesn’t agree and tries to push her back behind him for safety reasons, but she doesn’t budge. Richie, Bill, Eddie and Mike are scattered to Ben’s left. “Tell ‘em it’s all just a, a, a… Wwwhat’s the word, Eds? Gazebo?” IT guesses and giggles, directing its attention straight to Eddie.

Eddie stands astounded, confused. How does IT know of that? Gazebos? What was that? Or was it placebo? Gazebo’s something else… Placebos! Bullshit, right? Oh, right, oh right, that’s pretty much okey-dokey. Hold on, why—“Mike, what’s he talking about?” Eddie asks upon realising what gazebo/placebo meant for him. He’s petrified, frozen in place.

“M-M-M-Mikey?” Bill stutters his name, also growing suspicious. The Losers turn to look at Mike. Beverly can’t say she’s surprised, she’s instead disappointed. Something we missed again and Mike knows about it? He knew we’d fail? None of the Losers want to believe the words IT is saying. But they couldn’t not be true.

“Oh, Mikey, you never showed them the fourth side, did you?” IT asks and laughs again. IT sinks lower into the piedestal. “Didn’t want them to knowww what actually happened to the pooor shokopiwahhhhnom-nom-nom-nom…”

“Fuck, Mikey, you lied to us again?!” Bill is astounded, outrageous, so his stutter doesn’t fail him. Richie is in complete disbelief. Stan’s lip starts to quiver. Is there no way to kill IT? This was the only way and we failed? Mike knew we’d fail? Stanley looks to Mike and tears start rolling down his cheeks in an unstoppable manner. He’s our friend… He was our best friend… And he lied to us? Twice? Maybe more times… Gosh, Mike, how could you? How could you do that to us?


	13. belief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The true ritual does unfold now, and in the weirdest way the Losers would expect--the Battle of Wills. Will they get through it? Will they succeed? Will they touch IT in places no one ever has?

“They didn’t—“ Mike’s crying himself, desperate, afraid, “they did-didn’t be-believe. They didn’t believe they could kill him, that’s why it didn’t work back then!” Mike tries to reason with his friends while IT watches from the piedestal, chuckling to itself.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, MIKE??!” Richie doesn’t hold back, full-on screaming at his supposed best friend. This is not what friends do, and definitely not what best friends do.

“It hurt them.” Mike explains, empathic to the shokopiwahs and hopeful to get his friends to understand him. He still shakes his head, perhaps in denial of what he’s done wrong.

“Fuck YOU, Mikey!” Bill screams, now crying, too, disappointed in his best friend, his very trusted and smart best friend. What the fuck have they go to do now? How do they get out of this? 

“I needed somethin’.” Mike now begins to support himself with arguments. Y/N thinks he’s about to say ‘something for us all to come back to’ and she readies her response. She’s so angry at Mike. “Any-anything for us to remember.” Mike continues, proving Y/N’s assumption wrong. Eddie’s throat starts to whistle. But the aspirator’s gone, Eds, how are you going to breathe without it? Fuck you, I can breathe on my own. I’ve still got lungs, haven’t I? “Anything for us to believe.”

“FUCK!” Bill slowly, with swears and screams, accepts that this is how he dies. That they fucked up, they went wrong at some point, and that it’s all over now. There’s no way to kill IT, IT will live on forever, feed on their fears, their sorrows, their flesh and bones. He thrusts his fists against the weird surface of the lair.

“God DAMN IT!” Richie screams. IT only laughs and rises to a bigger height. Three lights come out of the prysm box, they float upwards in the air, giving the lair a source of light again. A cloud or mist originates around them, a blue one. The light is cold, energetic, but lifeless. It’s ghostly. It crawls slowly out of the piedestal on what look like huge, sharp legs.

“For twenty-seven years… I dreamt of you…” IT talks, and laughs again. Can he stop with the laughing? The Losers accordingly move backwards from the creature, making a good few meters distance between their group and IT. Stanley and Y/N are the first in line to face IT. “I craaaaved you.” The clown sings.

IT now has stepped completely off the piedestal and stands before the Losers in its full size and form, at least the one closest to its real form that a human mind can understand and comprehend. It has taken the form of a clown and a spider both, the sharp, seemingly stone-made legs are clad in clown attire, still. Ruffled, dirty-white pant for each leg. Stanley thinks it’s the ugliest thing he has ever seen. And spiders are meant to scare children, so for him or them this isn’t scary at all. It’s plain disgusting. Only the size and spikes at the end of the legs grow fear in the adults.

These legs trigger a memory in Mike. How they all fought it in 1989, how it chased him with two of these legs back then, how they almost stabbed Mike. Though they were bare then, a dark brown color. The structure was the same - huge, bent in two and a spike at the end, which IT also uses as a foot. A shiver runs down Y/N’s back. She hated spiders in her childhood. This one’s just big, that’s what’s scary.

IT takes a deep breath. “Oh, I missed you! Hohoho!” It triumphs.

Ben and Beverly pull Stanley and Y/N back, away from IT, they’re moving quickly away while IT basks in its own size and magnificence. Stanley turns to Ben with deeply furrowed eyebrows. “What are you doing?” He asks Ben, stopping them all four in their tracks.

“Getting outta here, what do you think!” Ben yells in a whisper back to Stanley. “Mike, pull back! Mike!” Ben tries to get Mike to move, but he won’t. He’s stuck his feet to the ground, he’s almost glued to it.

“We gotta go!” Bill yells to Mike and to the hesitating Y/N and Stanley. The three are standing their ground, but for different reasons.

“Why are you leaving?!” Stanley roars to his best friends.

“You want to commit suicide by the time you’re 50? Or a few days after this?” Y/N joins him. She remembers what Stanley told her of what he attempted to do a few days ago, and she skips a few breaths. She certainly did not mean to call him out or anything in that manner, and now fears Stanley took it that way. Completely opposite to her assumption, Stanley took her words as an example of encouragement. Something he also needed, and he finds, he still does need. And if his friends would ever be in the same state of mind that he was then… Desperate, hopeless…

“No, we wanna stay alive this time!” Richie screams back, he and Eddie are already heading to an opening.

“You won’t if we don’t finish this. WE HAVE TO KILL IT!” Stanley screams and points to the ground where he’s standing, gesturing for the rest to come back this instant. “You know I’m right!” He especially points a finger at his friends.

They do know he’s right. They’ve got no time to think, and they’re not as stubborn as Stanley, Mike or Y/N. They’re a bit more easily-influenced, but their survival instincts also stay strong. IT laughs, drawing them back to reality. “Kill me?” The creature burps a laugh again. “I’m the eater of worlds, silly-little-children!”

IT now pulls back one of its arms as if in a stance to throw something. Little hands start to manifest in his palm, one after the other as the Losers look on, and soon in the middle of the hands a fat sword-kind object emerges, the little hands now becoming holders/wraparounds for the weapon. The Losers’ mouths fall open as the arm, hand and weapon grow in size hurrendously.

“Time to flooooat!” IT calls and everyone screams. Another ‘oh, shit’ comes from Bill, like he can’t come up with anything original. He’s a writer, for Christ’s sake.

If it wasn’t for Bill throwing Mike out of the way, there’d be nothing left of Mike but a puddle of misery now. IT’s goal was Mike, but instead of obliterating Mike, due to Bill’s heroic action, the hand-spike smashed hard into the ground.

“Come on, get up, get up!” Bill urges Mike, getting them both up on their feet already. The Losers are screaming, moving backwards, now scared farther than death. IT is howling in menace, in power, in triumph. The Losers have no choice but to run. The lair is big, and it’s made for ITs size, not the human size, especially in terms of getting around. They could never outrun IT, Y/N knows that well. But they can always try.

So the eight of them run like hell, run so fast they could beat the devil, run because their lives do depend on it. Y/N, still holding the hand of Stanley, who hasn’t ran a lap since graduating year of college, starts running as fast as she physically can. On the wet, solid, weird patterned ground she outruns her friends, despite Stanley having problems with both breathing and keeping up with her. He’s barely running and barely even standing on his feet, he has no other choice.

IT is chasing after them around the piedestal, aiming for the Losers, smashing everything in its way, trying to smash the little adults. Beverly and Y/N are both screaming bloody murder, so scared that IT will hit them, that IT will hit one of their friends but they’d keep on running, scared that they will die in this horrible place and not do what they swore to as kids twenty-seven years ago. These and many more fears make them run even faster, make them scream and cry so intensely.

Suddenly, Y/N feels a tug on her arm and she’s pulled to the right by Bill. They all are. They took such a sudden turn that IT, nor they, could properly be read for or register it. Bill saw an opening of some sort in the wall that looked like a cave to him, much smaller than this form of IT could get into. And he took the chance. It might be filled with bones, eggs, corpses, spiders, cobwebs, trash, but that didn’t matter as long as they’re out of ITs reach.

None of the Losers would have expected to fall into a pool of water. This, of all places, to have a source of water? But here they were, suddenly plunged into a deep… water hole. Now it seems like just a hole because, once opening their eyes, they can’t see the bottom, the top nor the sides. It’s just water all around them. God, this might be more terrifying than ITs spider form, Stanley Uris dares to think. He’s sure IT will find a way to turn this innocent thought against him, or them all.

ITs cries are muffled by the deep water. Cries of despair and failure. IT’s lost them, but not for long. 

“Bill, where are we?”

Y/N wished she’d said it out loud. But she didn’t. She said it inside. Inside her head. She couldn’t say anything out loud, she’d actually drown. It’s almost like some part of her made a decision before she could. But the worst—or best—she hasn’t yet decided—thing is that she got a response.

“I have no idea.” Bill says. 

“Woah, you don’t have a stutter here.” That’s Richie’s voice. Y/N tries to reach out to Stan with her hands, as well as tries to look at Richie, find him among their swimming figures. But she sees nothing. It’s dark. It’s completely dark. And suddenly Y/N doesn’t feel her clothes or skin wet anymore. She’s not in water, but she’s floating. Is this what austronauts feel like? Oh, maybe she’s in space. But where are her friends?

“Where the fuck are we?” Y/N freaks out.

“Guys, where are you? Where are you all?” Eddie’s voice speaks in Y/N’s head.

“We’re coming.” Bill’s voice is sure.

Y/N feels herself being thrown further into the surrounding darkness. This is not a tunnel, this is not a hole, this is not a cave, this is just… All the darkness in the world. Is this some bad place? Is this the place people go when they die? Oh, shit! Are we dead?

“We’re not dead.” Beverly says and suddenly Y/N feels her next to herself in the dark. They join hands and Y/N feels like she’s looking into Beverly’s eyes. “I’ve been here before.”

“What?”

“I’ve been here, too.” Stanley’s voice comes into the conversation. Y/N feels her friends surrounding her. Good, they’re together again. She was so scared to be alone here, but now they’re all together. She sighs, and assumes her friends can hear it. She recognises Stanley’s hand on her waist. “This is where…”

“The Deadlights led us. I guess.” Beverly suggests.

“Yeah, must be. I remember it.” Stan agrees. “There was a turtle.”

“Oh, the turtle?” ITs voice comes from somewhere up above. The Losers gasp. “That old bitch is dead. Dead, dead, DEAD!” The creature laughs. “Soon you all will be, too! Hahaha. You’re already floating.”

“Yeah? You’re gonna do something? Where are you, huh?!” Ben yells. Y/N’s head hurts from that.

The Losers get thrown further down, and thrown hard. Probably by IT. They grunt, Eddie once again squeals, as does Beverly. Their screams are equal in tone. Stan and Y/N hold hands as tight as they can, afraid one of them would float off farther than the other if they don’t.

Y/N notices a carcas on their left. It looks like a turtle. Or an empty one. It doesn’t have any legs or tail. Its head looks dried out, the eyes are empty sockets, the mouth open wide. The neck connecting the head to the shell is thin, barely holding the head up.

“That’s the turtle.” Stan says, his voice now alarmed and thinner. “It couldn’t help us then. And can’t help us now.”

“But there’s something else.” Bill says. Seems like he’s leading them all, that he can see the farthest and that he knows the most. He’s still Big Bill. Like when they were younger. “Maybe someone else.”

“Something else, you say?” IT bellows. “Ooohohoho, Billy boy, there’s just me and you and death!”

“All those years ago, something told me there’s a macroverse beyond this all.” Beverly whispers to her friends. They keep on floating through the never-ending darkness, no idea how they got here or when and how they’re getting out.

“Maybe that’s where IT lives. Or where IT was born.” Mike guesses.

“The sewers were disgusting enough, I don’t wanna go there.” Richie says.

“What if there is something else there? Something worse than this dumb clown?” Eddie panics.

“No, Eds, let’s think positive. It’s probably a unicorn that will take us out of here.” Richie responds in a theatrical voice.

“Don’t call me Eds—“

“What if it iiiis a unicorn, Eddie?” IT teases. Eddie gasps. “A unicorn with swords for legs and holes for eyes and children’s skin for leather… Wouldn’t that be beautiful, Eds?”

Eddie growls, he actually growls. Y/N turns to the side she thinks Eddie must be from her with widened eyes. “Don’t you fucking call me that!” Eddie screams. For once, there seems to be absolute silence around them, as if IT shut up. But that was just the calm before the storm.

The roar they hear next almost splits open their skulls. Y/N grips the sides of her face, groaning. But at the end of the roar, there was a cry, a sort-of wheeze. A desperate and almost scared wheeze. A deep breath IT takes before unleashing another roar, but this seems more like a cry in frustration or agony. Y/N grins. She knows that something’s wrong with IT, but she doesn’t voice it in her head. She can’t. IT can’t hear what she’s onto.

Eddie seems to be onto something, too, Y/N can feel it. “I said - don’t fucking call me that!” Eddie roars instead, interrupting ITs agony. IT, though, cries again, cutting at the Losers’ ears. Bill whispers to his friends ‘come on, let’s join him’. Y/N and Stanley both nod.

“Don’t call him that!”

“Don’t you dare call him that!”

“Hear that, fucker? Don’t you ever call him Eds!” Richie screams, and between the eight of them, in a sweet, tearful voice, he adds: “That nickname is mine.” Eddie’s screaming falters at that for a second, and he looks to Richie for a quick second, then turns back. He begins chanting the words, but not without thinking on what Richie said.

The Losers chant the same denial, each ten or so times, until ITs cries have lessened. They feel themselves being pulled back, slowly, back to whatever was considered the normal world.

“We’re losing grip!” Stanley is the first to announce. Not in panic, but alarm for his friends.

“Our bodies will soon drown…” Y/N realises. They’ve got to go back if they want to save themselves, but they also have to stay. Bill shakes his head, his friends don’t see it, but feel it.

“We’ve got our grip on IT. We gotta use that.” Bill argues.

“Let’s do it with the time we have left.” Mike decides.

“Do what?” Richie deadpans. 

Silence. A beat. None of them know, but badly want to.

“Make him feel small.” Eddie speaks up.

“Small?”

“Yeah, like—“ Eddie continues, but he’s interrupted.

“All living things must abide by the laws of the shape they inhabit.”

Eddie hesitates. “Errr… Okay, I didn’t understand what you said, Mikey, but here’s my point—You have to make him feel what we’re feeling, yeah? Like he’s made us feel. Think of that.”

“Bully him?” Richie asks, his eyes squinted and brows furrowed.

“Well, sounds dumb, but yeah.” Eddie agrees to Richie’s poor phrasing of thoughts. “Think of how that has made you feel, and make him feel the same.”

“With all your might.” Bill adds.

“We’re fading.” Stanley points out. The Turtle is not far behind their backs.

“Battle of wills.” Ben echoes Mike’s words. “So maybe this is the real ritual of Chüd.”

“What do you mean, real? You calling me, or better—the shokopiwah—liars?” Mike’s taken aback. Wrong place to be.

“I ain’t calling you a truther, that’s for sure.” Richie shoots Mike’s way.

“Guys, shut up! Focus!” Bill interrupts. “We’re almost back.”

“Hey, gimmick!” Ben calls out to IT, wherever the creature is now. He might be anywhere in this black out dark. “Where are you, coward?”

“Show us your face, bitch!” Eddie yells. No, Eddie, I don’t think we’d want that. Richie smiles in pride about his love. He doesn’t look scared anymore.

“Liar!” Stanley screams. “Coward! Come out of your hole, you pathetic shape-changer!”

“Or crawl back into it, like you did twenty-seven years ago!” Y/N joins her friends. “And why was that, huh? You crawled back into your bed - why? Can you tell us? Do you have the guts to?”

All of them at once feel themselves growing. Sadly not in number, but in size. They feel their bodies heavier, longer. But looking at themselves, nothing really has changed, the proportions are the same. They’re not fading back anymore, though. But if they don’t get back, their bodies will drown and they will be stuck in here forever. 

Floating.

“It was out of fear, you fucker!” Bill yells next. “You were scared of eight little kids. Kids who were stronger than you already then! You’re a coward!”

“You’re still scared!” Mike announces. “Like a little mouse!”

“Who’s scared of eight 13-year-olds? Only pussies!” Richie calls. “And that’s what you are!”

“You’re nothing but a scared little clown.” Beverly says, her voice strongest of them all, it seems.

“Yeah, you’re a clown.” Y/N agrees. “Well, you’ve run out of tricks now, huh? No more pigeons to come out of your sleeve!”

“Go back to the circus where you belong!” Comes from Stanley, and he nearly makes himself laugh.

“They wouldn’t want your ugly shmug, anyway!” Eddie screeches into the darkness around them.

“You have no place in the world!” Ben states with his strong voice. “Or on it!”

“You don’t belong here! You don’t belong ANYWHERE!”

With multiple huge cracks, the darkness is shot through with light. IT screams in pain, in agony, like it’s been lit on fire. The infinite dark comes away like old wallpaper rolling off the walls, and makes terrible noise. The Losers squint and guard their faces from the light’s brightness, and Mike’s convinced it’s the three Deadlights again. But ’tis not. It’s light, the most natural of all light. Y/N even thinks she spots something moving in the light, so does Bill and Richie, but they have no time left to even partly see what it is. They’re whirled back into reality, going through a blender of time and space, light and fading dark.

The Losers are wet again, and they’re all reaching for each other but also trying to keep afloat in the water. Most of them, from the impact and surprise, have snorted water into their noses and now it’s quite hard to aquire breathing and steadiness in the water. Ben and Beverly are the first to get above the surface, Bill and Mike after them, Stanley and Y/N before Eddie and Richie. The last pair had managed to piss each other off even in the drastic situation under the water.

“Fuck.” Y/N curses under her breath. She moves her wet hair back, away from her face, and rubs at the skin of her face. She’s panting, trying to breathe in as much air as her lungs allow, though she needs much more than that. She coughs and spits out water. Stanley rights his own appearance, grips the water pool’s edges and looks at Y/N.

She feels like she’s just been on a really bad trip of LSD or some other psychedelic drug. She feels heavy. She looks at Stanley. The mere look of him, the thought that he’s next to her and that they’re in this together brings her to tears. She can falls onto him and clings onto his shoulders as she cries. Stanley only has one hand to spare to put around her for comfort.


	14. kids again / a long summer since passed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venturing further into complete darkness, the Losers reminisce and relive their childhoods and deal with other childhoods in their own special way. How does it all end?

“Hey! Hey, guys. We found some sort of—oh, this is a cave!” Eddie’s voice comes from behind them, thankfully not in his friends’ heads anymore. His voice sounds acoustic which proves his statement that this, where they are, truly is a cave.

“Swim over to us.” Comes Richie’s hushed, careful whisper. Y/N looks to Stanley. She’s very much afraid that when they do start to swim over to Eddie and Rich, they’ll be pulled back into the infinite darkness they faced seconds ago. She sighs, shaking her head lightly.

“It’s alright, I’ll be right behind you.” Stanley says, his hand still on her back. She bears him a look of uncertainity, but Stanley nods. So they go, Y/N first, her arms and legs moving with incredulous anxiety, she tries her best to stay at the very surface of the pool. Out of this fear, their journey is over fairly quickly. Once they’re out of the pool, they once again hear the bickering between Eddie and Richie.

“No, you gotta listen to me, man, we will not go first—“

“I know what you’re trynna do. You’re trying to make me scared again.”

“Shut up, I’m not, I’m looking out for you!”

“No, you’re terrifying me and assuming every possible worst scenario that I have already calculated before you and I do not need them said out loud we’re going first because there’s probably more than one passageway in this joint and we’ll need to split in pairs—“

“Eddie, I am in love with you and I can’t really afford forget you again, let alone, lose you.”

Richie’s words cast complete silence in the cave, and seems, in the whole big place outside it. There have been no sounds from IT, either, the Losers suddenly notice. The water pool even feels suddenly completely silent and still. No one takes a breath, least of all Eddie Kaspbrak, for a solid minute.

He is solely looking at Richie with the truest form of disbelief on his face, trying to process what he just heard. Process where it came from, how long has it been that way, did he just remember that?, is he telling the truth?, how long has he—what the FUCK do I say now?! Eddie Kaspbrak, you get yourself together and you tell this man what you feel. Tell it to the man and the boy you loved despite yourself. But he’s in an argument with himself.

“Richie…” Eddie manages to squeal out first, “Fuck, man, you…”

“You don’t have to say anything, there’s no time. We’ve got to get a move on.” Come Richie’s smooth, but urgent voice.

“Then why did you tell me this now?”

“I needed to.” Richie says, and huffs quietly. He turns to his friends, for a moment having forgot that they’re even there. “Come on, everyone, out of the water now.” He beckons. His frozen friends start moving out of his request, all dripping over the stone floor of the cave. They’re still silent, all of them too taken aback and no wiser to respond to what Richie said. “So, what was the plan, Eds?”

Kaspbrak’s mouth is still hanging open wide, as are his eyes, and still out of pure shock, he doesn’t even oppose the usage of the nickname he hates. He opens his mouth and then closes it a few times before getting his thoughts right. “Multiple passways. To… somewhere, I guess. I have a feeling—“

“That there’s some center they are leading to?” Ben asks, looking directly at Eddie. He nods. So does Mike and Bill. Ben goes to find out how many passage ways there are from here. He looks around. “There’s only two here.”

“No, there is a third one.” Richie says, shaking his head. Ben furrows his eyebrows.

“Richie, there’s only two.”

“No, dude, there’s a third one.” Eddie responds and, glancing over his shoulder to look at Richie, walks up to Ben. Do you think this is safe enough for me? I’m gonna be alright, Rich. He walks a bit further, seemingly into the wall the is in front of him.

“Ed-“ But Ben is stopped in the middle of the word when Eddie doesn’t go head-forward into a wall, instead stepping into some kind of fog.

“See? There’s a third way.” Eddie turns back to Ben, and, once again glancing at Richie, comes back into full view. He keeps his eyes on Richie, many things to say gathering at the tip of his tongue.

“I th-think that’s the ruh-ruh—“

“Right way.” Mike finishes, nods.

“The only way.” Beverly adds. “I think IT’s hiding there.”

“So we go there.” Stanley decides.

“How about we—“

“No, we’re not splitting up.” Stanley insists, reading his friend’s mind. He looks up. “We’re never splitting up again. At least while we’re here and while the job’s not finished.” He says. Y/N slithers her hand inbetween his fingers, holding them tight. “Alright?” His voice is softer now, a plea to his friends.

The Losers remember the last time they split up in here, when they were younger. And Stanley got lost. He was all alone. He was almost eaten by IT, he looked into the Deadlights and saw unspeakable things. He believed, or rather IT made him believe, that he was abandoned by his friends on purpose, left to die, and left to die on his own, completely alone in a dark, dirty place where creatures of million years old crawl around.

Bill brings a hand down to Stanley’s shoulder supportingly, and when Stanley turns to look at him, Bill’s got tears in his eyes. Stanley and Y/N can see it even in the darkness surrounding them.

“T-Together.” Bill says, nodding. Stanley gives him a curt nod and turns his head to face the right way. Eddie and Richie nod, and the rest of their friends can see them, hesitantly and scared at that, intertwining hands. Richie and Eddie share a look between themselves. There’s certainity in Eddie’s eyes that stomps out the plea in Richie’s. His prayer has been answered.

The Losers head straight forward through the wall of mist. Down a pathway that will maybe, in some case, lead them to their deaths. In the true case, it will lead them to the deepest lair where IT dwells. This way no human soul or body has ever come, and it’s certainly not made so.

The walls of the passageway are high and wide, but they are round, making it a tunnel. A tunnel that seems made for things to be thrown down into. The worst thing about it are round, almost-transparent objects laying along the sides. Y/N almost tripped over two of them, which made her and Stanley actually diverse their attention towards the floor and its ‘decorations’.

“What the fucking hell are those?!” Y/N cries in a desperate whisper, her hand already up to Stanley’s forearm and squeezing it tightly. She’s sure that tears have sprung out of her eyes already. Without any self-control, despite her fear and self-advice to do the opposite, she leans down to look at the things because there seems to be something inside them. “Are those—?”

“Fuckin’ eggs.” Ben finishes. Y/N and Stanley look up at him. Eggs? They want to repeat it, and they do, only with mouths agape and no sound. They look down at the things again. How did he…

“They’re his.” Eddie says, then shakes his head. “I mean, they’re ITs.” His hand almost deathgrips Richie’s. Eddie gulps.

“Ch-ch-children.” Bill states, both his face and voice horrified. It is not a usual horror, it’s a blood-chilling, completely paralising one.

More of IT? Kids? Actual children? How did he even… It. Or is it a she? A female creature? How does a creature of this kind even mate? And with who? If these really are children of IT, one could only wonder what they look like and how they’d look when grown. But that’s too disgusting of a thought.

“We have to kill them.” Mike states, a hollow look in his eyes. Bill nods, patting Mike on the back. Richie and Eddie agree. Ben huffs.

“It’s cruel, but—“ Beverly admits, shrugging.

“It’s not cruel when they’re his. ITs.” Ben argues and corrects himself on the way, shaking his head. He and Beverly look at each other, and by the look in her eyes, she agrees with him.

“For all we know, IT might be female.” Stanley wonders aloud. The Losers look towards the far end of the tunnel and then back at the eggs. “How do we do it?”

Y/N, looking into one of the eggs, spots something dark inside it. With legs, it looks like. “We’ve got nothing but our flashlights.” She says, her voice grown down to a weak whisper.

“That’ll have to do.” Ben says. Without any warning, he slams his right boot into the egg Y/N was looking at. The friends all jump back, yelling, afraid and disgusted. Ben’s boot is now covered in some kind of goo, yellowy-white that looks old, like been here a while. You bet your fur it’s been here a long time. Ben scowls and shakes his boot free of it. But the real screaming starts when they finally see what the ‘child’ looks like. It is a spider, a black one, but it’s got a baby’s head where the six eyes and a hairy spider head should be. One of them is making its way quick over to the closest object in reach—Y/N.

She screams bloody murder, desperately trying to move her paralysed self away, but the spider has reached her leg and has began its journey upwards. She feels the sticky spikes on her jeans and thinks she feels them stabbing through the material. What is it gonna do? How far will it get? Get it off, get it off, GET IT OFF! Stanley helps her move away while she tries to shake the thing off. Then Mike emerges from the panicked crowd of his friends and takes the spider in his arms. Y/N widens her eyes even more, in shock of his bravery, but relief floods through her body. She almost collapses against Stanley.

Mike looks the child straight in the eyes before smashing it down to the floor and giving it a good boot-rub. Eddie had been even jumping out of terror, horrified, actually, beyond terror. And this is not the only child of IT. The Losers’ screaming stops, now they’re trying to gasp for breath and come to terms with what’s to be done.

“I’m not doing this!” Eddie howls, and desperately wishes for his aspirator. He shamelessly (rightfully) rests his face on Richie’s shoulder and sobs. “I can’t do this.” Richie puts an arm around Eddie, and simply lets him be a panicking little mess next to him.

“We can’t luh-leave one alive.” Bill says and searches his friends’ faces for understanding and cooperation. All of them nod without hesitation save for Eddie and Y/N. She nods after a moment. She’s wiped her tears and steadied herself again, and she is going to be just fine. “Not even one. Suh-suh-so we take them one by one.”

“Who knows how many there are…” Ben wonders aloud.

To the surprise of everyone, Y/N shrugs. “They’re just spiders.” She says and looks at her friends. She raises her eyebrows. “They’re just spiders.” She repeats. The rest exchange glances, but then shrug the same, agreeing with her.

“We’ll do it together, alright?” Richie asks Eddie, and he nods without a sound. They hold hands tighter. “One… Two…” Richie targets the egg closest to them. “Three!” They yell together and, with one foot each, stomp down on the egg. The child inside screeches, but not for long. Richie’s and Eddie’s feet are coming down onto it again. They do so a few times until the child is for sure unmoving and silent.

Mike’s the first to cheer, after him they all do. Hands in the air, laughter and cheers fueled by taste for anger and destruction, the Loses Club unite. Arms over each other’s shoulders, they kill the eggs and children together. They count to three and smash their feet into the eggs. The shells crack and the goo drips out, the children screech and cry and try to run, but the Losers stomp down again. They cheer with each killed off-spring and get ready for another round.

Weirdly enough, this feels like the most fun activity they’ve done since the summer of 1989. They’re together again, and they’re killing children of IT because they want to end IT, because they can and because it’s so fun. Doing it together means everything to them. Beverly, Y/N and Ben are laughing from smiling, from the amount of joy they hold while their friends only smile of the same reason. The smiles may look sinister to you or to anyone else not in the club. But not to them. They feel like kids again.

None of them wonder if this will ever happen again, if they’ll have this much fun in their lives from this point on, it simply doesn’t matter. Because they’ve got this moment, this unity and joy from being together, doing something so good together. Eddie certainly hasn’t been happier, his face wide in a smile. Both he and Richie could not be happier when they’ve got each other and their friends. They look at each other for a short moment, and all that they feel and what they have felt for many, many years, travels through these two pairs of eyes. But they turn back to focus on what they’re targeting.

The Losers are covered in goo and some even in fragments of the spider legs when they’re done. They’ve made a long way down the tunnel smashing the eggs, and seem to reach a bigger opening in it. The group dissolves into four pairs. They’re exhausted, and for good reason, but they still need strength for the final battle. They’re together, though, and they can do this. 

Richie and Eddie are the first to enter the opening, one a complete opposite to the other. Eddie’s still panting and even whimpering, his bottom lip shakes and his wide eyes scan the new environment they’re in. But Richie’s collected, his breathing quiet and even. He moves his flashlight around the place to see where they are.

Y/N and Stanley follow them, Ben and Beverly behind them and Mike and Bill the last. The opening seems to be another cave, but a smaller one than the lair they performed the fake ritual in. At first, they can’t see IT, but they’re deadly sure it’s here. Moving down the tunnel, they could hear the cries and wails of IT still inside their heads, butchering their brains as background noise. Now it grows in volume.

“Guys, what if IT’s not here?” Eddie speaks their thoughts aloud. The Losers stop in their tracks once they’re all inside the cave. Stanley’s flashlight passes over a pile in the cave, and both he and Y/N draw back, terrified. It’s a pile of skulls and bones, even some pieces of clothing. Now they know they’re definitely in the place where IT eats and probably has the long naps of twenty-seven years. “What if it’s waiting for us to be here and then it’s gonna trap us and—“

“Eddie, shut up!” Richie shushes him. Not because the little guy might be annoying, but because he’s rising more unnecessary fear and anxiety in his friends with letting his thoughts wonder. Richie can’t tell Eddie his theory won’t come true, and that it’s all going to be fine. That he can’t guarantee, but he can keep pessimistic assumptions to himself now. It’s just a way for Eddie to let the anxieties in him out. 

Richie investigates the place more with his flashlight. The light beam reaches a far end of the cave, letting them see that the walls are covered by grey, that were once white, dripping cob webs. Y/N shivers. Then, they all hear a loud cry, not in their heads anymore, but instead acoustically bouncing off the walls of the cave. The Losers draw back, but turn their flashlights in the direction which the cry came from. They illuminate the final, truly closest to truth, form of IT.

Still a spider, with the clown’s face for a head and two shining red holes for eyes has hunched itself over in a corner, and it’s wailing. The Losers take slow steps towards it, the unpredictable nature of IT still enticing fear in them. But IT is wounded. They all know it, they all can feel it, the power subsiding from inside them and around them. Bill even breaks a smile. But the monster’s thoughts and pleas still linger, and they do grow in number and speed.

Aha! We’ve chased it back into its true hole. We’ve wounded it. We are stronger, Bill thinks. With that thought, hearing it once again in their heads, his friends grin.

“Let me go, let me go and I’ll give you anything you want, little Losers, please,” IT begs, almost true venom on its tongue on the last words. As if it’s physically hard for IT to say those words, “you can have everything you’ve ever wanted—money, fame, fortune, power—I can give them to you!”

Richie laughs. Sure you can, sure you will.

“I can give you your brother back, Big Bill, huh?” IT turns to Bill, and he stops in his tracks, his smile falling. “Little, innocent Georgie… He won’t remember a thing.” The clown’s face changes from a smile to a scowl, he shakes his head furiously. Bill winces, very uncomfortable by the facial expressions. “I can give you all kiddies, huh? How about that?” IT looks over his eight opponents. That touched Stanley’s heart. He’d been trying for kids with Patty multiple times with zero results. This was quite tempting if he’d forgot about the kids IT has killed in its lifetime, and adults and teenagers. How many lives has IT spoiled. A magical resource for kids can’t make up for all that.

“I can’t make you eternal, little Losers, but I can touch you and it will give you long lives—two hundred years, three hundred years, perhaps five hundred—I can make you Gods!” IT still begs, the voice now more confident. “Gods of the Earth! If you let me go, let me go, let me go—“

“Bill?” Mike asks, looking at his friend. “Losers…” he looks over all his friends. Well, this might be it, folks, this might just be the end. So say your bye-byes, kiss your mother and thank your father, hug your siblings and pet your dogs. Take that bag and go out the door, and that will be the end. So your goodbyes, ‘cause this is the last stand.

But the Losers don’t. Instead, they huddle closer and take a deep breath. They start charging towards the weak IT. They don’t have much other weapons than their flashlights, but they’ll work as long as they believe it. Who cares if they’ll lose the only objects of light when they’ll use them for something like killing the most evil entity on the planet?

The Losers punch their fists and flashlights into the body of the huge spider, their skin and knuckles meeting with the black quelch. Eddie yelps in disgust and Bill screams, unloading his frustrations into it. IT howls, actual red eyeballs bulging out of their sockets and paralysed spider legs stretching outwards.

Eddie’s got every right to be disgusted. This truly is gross, the places where Losers plunged into IT are now bleeding with thick, black blood. Bill’s arm has gone in up to the elbow, and then it goes up to the shoulder. Bill’s about to be swallowed whole. But Stanley and Richie hold his torso back, pulling him back. Ben and Mike, completely crazy, are trying to detach a spider leg, pulling hard with all their might. Something more to add to ITs pain. And it actually comes off. They’re screaming, and IT is screaming, having lost power and a leg already.

Good thing Bill had gone that deep. He returns with his arm almost completely black, and with something in his hand. He’s holding it so tight, like his life depends on the grip. His friends look it over—something small, but moving—another spider? Y/N guesses. But no, it has no legs. Then they notice IT also looking at what Bill holds, but this look isn’t one of wonder or curiosity, like the Losers’ are. It is of desparation, a common feeling in this place and among these people. His look speaks loss and hunger. For what?

For what Bill’s got. The heart. The heart of IT.

“Jesus mother-fuck, Bill.” Eddie speaks first, completely blown away by how Bill got it and, of course, the fact that IT actually has a heart. Somehow they all know as a fact that it’s the heart of IT.

“A thing like that has a heart?” Richie questions sceptically.

“What could it ever love?” Y/N asks, sort of rethorically. ITs body shakes.

“Fear.” Mike says with a serious face. The Losers shrug, deciding to agree with Mike. It seems an obvious and logical answer. Bill starts to squeeze the heart between his fingers, squeeze it as tight as he can. To end the life of IT. His friends place their palms around and under Bill’s to help him. The heart is crushed in a few moments from eight hands as impact. It becomes a simple puddle of black blood covering their hands.

With these two simple squeezes, the heart is gone. So is the evil in Derry, the comdenment of its people and the curse upon the Losers. Such a simple action that causes big, heroic consequences. 

They look at the spider in front of them. It has stopped moving altogether, its legs cowardly stretched out around its still body. The white make-up color on the clown’s face has faded into a light grey, there are cracks in the face, sort-of wrinkles for this kind of creature. The red glow of ITs eyes is gone, they’re simply black, semi-see-through, hollow balls that remind you of the ones that witches in movies like to use. The chest does not move. There’s no sound from the mouth or nose.

IT is dead.

There’s silence. Everyone takes a well-deserved breath. Their hands drop.

“We did it.” Eddie says.


	15. losers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how it all ends. The Losers have to return to reality, and the present.  
> warning: this chapter is quite long and emotional. Nostalgia and reminiscence will hit hard. Grab some tissues

The place starts coming down, and fast. Cob webs are winding downwards, the skulls and bones caught in them are falling, much heavier than the webs. The Losers do their best to avoid crashing with any of them, orienting by sound and noise. They grab each other, or who they’re closest to, and try to run through the mess back through the tunnel. Without their flashlights-turned-into-deadly-weapons they can’t see shit—not whose hand they’re holding, where they put their feet, what’s in front of them, and there’s no light to help them.

Due to loss of light, none of them saw the big spider’s legs as they, basically, in a funny way, shot outwards because a big portion of what could be considered the ceiling crashed down onto its body. Some of the legs miss the Losers by a bare inch, but one of them scrapes Eddie in the left side. He screams out, the flying leg creating a burning and stabbing feeling in the side. He almost falls over, if it weren’t for Richie’s instinctive hands to catch him. Eddie clutches at his wounded side.

“How the fuck do we get out?!” Richie screams, now in a bigger panic. His voice is almost swallowed by everything clashing down around them. He dearly hopes there’s no dark-magic poison in the spider leg that just hit Eddie. The rumble of noise in the place is unimaginable—wood, bone, everything breaking and coming down. The walls and ground are shaking, the eight barely stand on their feet. This feels like an earthquake.

No one can answer his question. How do they get out? Through where do they get out? Is there a way out now? The Losers run and reach the crossing of the three paths, their voices becoming as acoustic as in the cave, and when they look down guidelessly each way, Y/N spots a light at the end of the right path. “There!” She yells, pointing in the direction.

“We gotta go back, we know that way better!” Ben suggests.

“How the fuck do you expect us to get up that shaft we climbed down, huh? That’s not gonna be fast!” Y/N argues back.

“Fair enough!” Ben concludes and they start heading down the right path. Y/N goes first with Stanley, since she’s the fastest and Stanley forcefully, in these few hours, has learned to run almost as fast as her. 

The Losers Club don’t waste any time, running after their friends. Down the path that seems more and more narrow as they go farther. Richie has to half-way drag Eddie. The floor is slippery and slowly moves upwards, which makes it harder for them to keep running, the shaking, the slippery surface, the steepness. They reach a flight of stairs. Stairs?! Actual stairs. Were they there before? Was this way actually here before? Y/N looks back on her friends, and then back at the stairs. Should they…? Or should they take Ben’s offer?

Who gives a shit. There’s light coming from the top of them, so they rush up without thinking. Stanley slips a few times on the steps, but Y/N catches him every time. As they get higher up the stairs, which are very high and steep, feels like an eternity climbing them already, the crashing noise fades away. But a new one comes from the top of the stairs. The sound of…

“Is that water?” Stanley asks and looks over at Y/N. She listens in, stopping herself, Stanley and the rest of their friends on the stairs. Flowing water. They can already see the door that will lead them to the outside, it’s been opened already. Was someone here? Or is it some magical luck?

“That’s a lot of water.” Y/N concludes with a nervous laugh. Her friends agree with nods. But no water is spilling through the door yet, so they’re safe. For now. Right? But what is happening outside? Are the sewers overflowing? Will they step into a huge, quick river once outside the door?

They restart the journey up the stairs and Stanley opens the door fully. It’s not very bright, the sun is only just rising. Seemed much brighter when they were in the dark. But where are they? Which part of the Sewers? Stepping past the door, turns out that the door is higher than the actual ground and that water truly is flowing through the big pipe. Stanley steps down into the made current, the water level up to his knees. As a kid, the water wasn’t so deep. He looks around before letting his friends get out. The current flows out towards a bigger outlet, which looks like some off-stream of the Kenduskaeg.

They’re in the Barrens.

Stanley realises, and remembers their visit here. Water is flowing from the inside of the sewers, and flowing more and more faster. Stanley helps Y/N get out, lifting her up a little and then helping her land in the water. She sighs. She looks pleadingly at him, without really wanting to ask him for what he’s going to do anyway. Not because he sees her plea, but because he wants to carry her.

He lifts her up bridal style and carries her, as quick as he can, out of the big sewer pipe. She ties her hands around Stanley’s neck, their eyes never leaving the other’s in the journey out from the pipe.

Ben helps Beverly and the rest of them to get out, they’re astounded by the level and amount of water. The core four are pleasantly surprised to see where they have come out. Richie grins. “What is this, Eds?” He asks with an expecting, warm smile to the man whose hand he’s holding. Richie helps Eddie come out of the hole, and in the giving light sees that his side is bleeding quite badly. Richie looks into Eddie’s face worriedly now, hoping the bleeding isn’t causing the angel too much pain to bear. Eddie looks around a bit confusedly at first with his usual wide eyes, but then he realises. He remembers.

“Millions of gallons of Derry pee…” Eddie citates his younger self while remembering the exact day and moment he was with his friends here. It was their first time in the Barrens, and they were looking for Georgie. They were on the right track, though. They found Betty’s shoe. Eddie looks to Bill.

Richie laughs and nods. He puts an arm around Eddie, squeezing the little man to him warmly.

“Right, guys, let’s get out before we get drowned by the flow.” Ben ushers Richie and Eddie, and the two make their way through the increasingly heavy stream, Richie helping Eddie get by quicker. They aim for their friends who are already half-way reaching the meadow on the other side of the stream.

“What do you say we go to the Quarry?” Bill suggests, looking around at his friends. They are a bit surprised by his question, but find it not that bad of an idea. They shrug. “Wash ourselves off.” Stanley tilts his head, still looking at Y/N. She gives him a soft smile.

“You’re gonna get more wet than we did from this.” He tells her, and she laughs. Stanley gently puts her down onto her feet.

“I’m fine with that. Sorry to drain you, though.” She says, but Stanley shakes his head. Water droplets, still there from the water pool incident, fall from his hair and into the grass. He slicks his hair back. He looks around at his friends, they’re all in the meadow, all eight. Stanley allows himself a smile. And then he notices the heavy stream of water coming from the sewer pipe.

“There’s water here, you lunatics.” Ben states and he and Beverly laugh.

“Way to ruin the sentimental value of the Quarry, Haystack.” Richie replies, throwing a rock Ben’s way. He only smiles.

“So, Quarry, then?” Stanley asks, a smile on his face again, and everyone agrees with nods. The Losers are out of shape, a bit broken and very tired. But they’re together. They’re all in one piece.

“Lead the way, Mikey, you know it best.” Bill says and slaps a hand on Mike’s shoulder. Mike smiles and makes his way upwards from the stream. His friends follow after.

Only now does Y/N notice how filthy she actually is. Gosh, her pretty sweater and jeans are completely ruined now. Maybe she’ll be able to get them cleaned in the chemical laundromat. She’s all smeared with dirt, slime, blood and God knows what’s that black substance in splotches on different parts of her body. In the dark, it’s really all the same, she couldn’t see how she looked herself, nor could her friends. Her face is probably as dirty as Stanley’s, and her hair even worse than she assumes.

She looks at him. She can now recall very clearly how all those years ago in the Sewers, he had said, “I can stand to be scared, but I hate being dirty like this, I hate not knowing where I am—“ he’d cried to his friends after they’d all fell down a bent sewer pipe. She puts her hand on Stanley’s back. He was alright, he just didn’t like being dirty and lost. You’re only dirty now, Stanley, don’t you worry. You’re with your friends. Stanley gives her a smile, turning his head to her, with his smeared, almost green-brown face. Some spots almost match his incredibly dark hair and eyes.

Words are needless when you both speak the same thought through your eyes.

We did it. And we’re still alive. No broken arms or anything. All in one piece.

The walk to the Quarry is quiet as it can be. Considering how they all feel because of what they’ve all done mere minutes ago. And considering the short way to the Quarry - they only have to walk up a hill and then walk further through the woods to reach the edge. They have no idea what’s happening in Derry centre nor that it’s because of them, they’re isolated from that part of the world.

The Losers sigh with tired relief when they come onto the little track they recognise as the leading way to the Quarry. They see that there’s a wooden sign that tells them about permitted swimming in the Quarry. They all laugh. Taking off their shoes and outerwear, the Losers wonder to themselves who’ll be the first to jump in. Beverly and Y/N look at each other once they’ve taken off their top layers, left in pants and tank tops. They’ve got the same thought in their minds. Also, they’re accidentally matching in choices of clothing.

The girls smile at each other and jog to the edge of the cliff. Their male friends smile, watching them. Stanley’s got such a beautiful smile of pride on his face it might as well bring tears to his eyes. The same can be said about Ben next to him. Beverly and Y/N entwine hands and count to three before jumping down.

Sissies.

No sound comes from them, no screaming or cheering, there’s only the big splash the males hear when the girls hit the surface.

It hurts a bit at first, the water very cold and still against their skin. But the girls don’t have time to process or react to it, they’re underwater the next split second. JEEZ LOUISE it’s cold! Y/N rushes to the surface as quick as she can then, so does Beverly. They swim a bit further so the men don’t jump on top of them. They come down quite soon, not being sissies this time, and soon they’re all swimming together to a more shallow spot in the Quarry pool. Jumping might not have been the best for Eddie’s side, but the water will help, he knows that well.

A/N: Que “Baby Can I Hold You” by Tracy Chapman. Please listen to it while you read <3

Stanley chooses to kneel down on the sandy bottom and Y/N kneels in front of him. She wants to clean him up. He holds her waist as she cups water between her hands and brings it down onto Stan’s head. He smiles wide and shakes his head like a wet dog, which makes her smile. She rubs the dirty spots off his face and neck. Next come his hands, which he gives relucantly because holding her waist right now is what he wants most.

After his hands come his curls. They’re full of dirt and sand, as they find out when Stanley shakes his head above the water. Y/N combs her hands through his hair to get rid of all of the unnecessary, and it feels sort of therapeutic. She washes her own self after him, and Stanley holds her waist, watching her through his wet eyelashes and the golden light casted by the sun of dawn. Her hands rub over her face uncomfortably, almost itchingly, and she scratches her scalp to get everything out and off. She doesn’t think how she looks in the moment, but guesses that she looks like no angel. To Stanley she does.

Her hands and the water around her becomes dark, even black, from what’s coming off her. Some of it doesn’t come so easily off, and she’s sure that the egg goo will definitely not wash off, even if a chemical laundromat is used. She guesses some part of it all not coming off is the emotional weight of it. What the smears mean, who the goo belonged to,

where the black, dirty water soaking her hair and clothes before came from, what the bruises on her knees and elbows and hips tell her, and will tell until they’re healed. Y/N sighs. These bruises and dirtiness weigh the heaviness of the job done.

She’s already exhausted, and rubbing her own skin harshly only increases the loss of strength. She looks at Stanley after she’s sure her hands are jelly and she can’t do any more washing. He offers her a sober smile, squinting his eyes in the rays of the rising sun, almost looks to her like he’s winking. Y/N giggles. She moves her hair behind her ears so it won’t bother her.

She’s in water, in water that is not very much see-through, and on a usual day, she’d be petrified and frozen by fear to be in it. But, firstly, she has been here countless times before. Secondly, she’s with her friends. She’s also with Stanley. She ruffles his wet curls again, and smiles back at him. There’s nothing else in her life, or in her world, right now. There’s nothing else she’d need. And thirdly, the roots for her fear have been killed. Nothing to fear anymore.

Everyone else is washing off individually, despite silent mutual pining between certain someones. Except Eddie and Richie. To the Losers’ surprise, they’re both very quiet. It’s something they hadn’t realised is different about the whole situation now - there was actual silence in the group of eight, when it was usually filled by those two. The Losers are too exhausted and emotionally set-back to find such details in the background noise now, they don’t even bat an eye or turn a suspicious head.

Richie’s hands are cleaning off the dirt on Eddie’s face, quite the same as Y/N does to Stanley. But the touch is not the same. While Y/N’s fingers know the traces, bumps and overall feeling of Stanley’s face and skin like a map, Richie’s hands are in unknown territory. He’s soft, and he’s trying something new, he’s exploring someone new, yet someone so familiar and close to him. He treats him like the most fragile thing in the world, which Eddie might just be.

Eddie only watches as he does so. Richie works hard, but gentle to get Eddie’s face perfectly clean. Then Eddie decides—fuck it, who doesn’t mind blood and dirt—and does the same to Richie. His way of returning feelings and yearning. He works with his right hand, using the left one causing a burning itch in the fresh wound. The roughness of Richie’s stubble meets Eddie’s delicate fingers, but he doesn’t even make a sound. Each of them mutter something here and there, some word of frustration or, instead, accomplishment, but other than that, they don’t speak.

Eddie feels Richie’s hands stop their work, and now the glassed man is only looking at him. His hands are still on Eddie’s cheeks. A tender, tired look in his eyes. Usually, Eddie would call Richie an asshole and get his hands off his face because, well, it’s Richie, and because Eddie is Eddie - he doesn’t like hands on himself, much less those of another man. But this is no usually.

Eddie’s eyes widen a bit as his heartbeat picks up, and he gulps. There’s so much he wants to say to Richie, and suddenly this feels like the right moment. They do the most natural, simplest thing that comes to mind, the urge moving them at the same time. The two men lean closer to each other, but a sudden fear of rejection stops them at an inch’s distance from each other’s lips. Each takes a deep, ragged breath. Despite their self-doubt, seeing and feeling that both the fear and the responsiveness is mutual, they finally become one, in a kiss.

Y/N draws in a breath at the sight of them, and turns quickly to look at Stanley instead. She doesn’t want her best friends’ tender moment of finally showing their sacred love for each other be on public display, doesn’t want it to be watched, hence she turned herself away. She can only smile as wide as up to her ears, looking at Stanley, who does the exact same. They’re so proud of their best friends. Y/N presses her forehead against Stanley’s, her hands on his shoulders. Stanley pulls her closer to him, his arms wrapping tighter around her, and their eyes close.

Ben whispers to Beverly that he dropped his watch into the water, and they both go under to search for it. In search for it, both their hands come across the metal object at once, and they look at each other. An urge, must be the pining and yearning, or perhaps the desparation, but maybe, finally, a chance they can both use, pushes them towards each other. Their lips touch in an underwater kiss and they both smile after their lips come against one another. Beverly’s hand goes to touch Ben’s cheek, therefore pulling them both closer to each other.

Mike and Bill are left to watch their friends basking in each other’s love, and the two best friends embrace. Bill’s head rests against Mike’s chest as they both sigh in content, smiles on their faces. Eddie and Richie stay with their lips for however long feels natural, but pull apart after a while. Their foreheads press together, and their noses almost touch.

Eddie glances at Y/N and Stanley for a split second, and thinks of their situation. How he thought the two were married, and had been, when he met them again. How he’s always thought of them as two people who are undeniably perfect for each other, even when he was young. And how when they became a couple in high school, the whole Losers club hadn’t been happier in that period (until the events of the last few hours, of course).

Stanley’s probably got a wife. Scratch that, he most definitely has a wife. There was a ring on his left hand put there by a very lucky lady, who, Eddie is still surprised, wasn’t Y/N. But she probably has a husband or a boyfriend, at least. She’s quite the desirable girl woman, she was that even back in high school. She and Bev were both big magnets for the male onlookers in their environments. And yet, with their both certain steady relationships that were born in a different life, to a different person than they are in Derry, they choose love. Stanley and Y/N choose to take each other’s love and give in return, and have it while they can. Even if it may cost everything dear to them back in the lives they lived outside of Derry. This may not last, and that’s the most hurtful thing. But also the thing that makes the love right now more beautiful and cherishable.

Eddie looks back at Richie. So what if maybe this isn’t forever? What if they don’t leave Derry together, what if they just leave and forget again? What if they just leave things as they are, yes, they love each other, and maybe neither of them have the guts, sort-of, to persue what these feelings give them, and what they mean. That all is a bunch of bullshit, but who knows?—everything could change after this morning, everything could change during the day.

So what if this isn’t forever? Who the fuck cares. Richie means to Eddie what’s beyond words to say, and he’s gonna take what he can get in the moment. Fuck what happens after, fuck what happens today, tomorrow or the day after this. They have what is now.

“I love you, Rich, you know,” Eddie admits and turns his head up at the man in question. Richie nods and moves a bit of Eddie’s hair back. Their hands, the touches, are still hesitant and sort-of afraid. But both cross their self-created boundaries and step over their fears, not afraid anymore.

“I wish I could say that I knew, Eds,” Richie responds, “but I was afraid for so long. For all this time. That you didn’t and that you couldn’t, but…” He pauses and looks down searchingly at Eddie, who’s looking at him with many arguments in his mind that speak for themselves in his doey brown eyes. “but I have loved you, and I still love you.”

Eddie nods. “I was scared, too. You know—you know what being—what feeling what we feel meant for—meant back then.” He admits. Richie nods now, precisely knowing what Eddie’s talking about. Not the same punishment is on their minds, though. “I mean, we were young. And I was… my mom, she—“ Eddie shakes his head, and Richie thinks his love is crying. He’s in despair, and close to tears. “My head was full of everything—I knew everything about every possible sickness and from what I knew, and from what my mom told me, and because of everything, I thought—I thought it meant to be sick.” But Eddie looks at him now, and he is crying. Richie gives him a faint smile, nearing tears himself upon seeing Eddie like this. And upon knowing exactly what he feels. “And I didn’t want to be sick.” Eddie shakes his head and tears come falling down faster. He lets himself fall into Richie’s warm, loving embrace, helpless, in agony because of his younger self, his choices and what made him so. All the people, all the things that made him who he was and who he grew up to be. “But I—I hated that loving you meant to be sick. Because it was… it was pure and true, and healthy. Opposite to what everyone made me think, what they wanted me to think.” Eddie mewls, crying into Richie’s already wet shirt. He only tightens his supportive grip on Eddie. “And I loved you so much. And I still do.”

Richie nods, his head falling on top of Eddie’s softly. He closes his eyes. “I know.” He tells him truthfully. He knew everything about Eddie, he couldn’t miss the part of his mom being the biggest and worst influence on Eddie, on how he behaved, how he carried himself and who he grew up to be. “I love you, Eddie.” Hey, Eds, I know it was the worst part of your life, I know its impact and that you still suffer from it, but have this - I love you. Have that. Have my neverending love for you. It’s not gonna solve it, but you’ll have something. Something better to hold onto.

“You already said that earlier.” Eddie points out, sniffing. He’s calmed down. Maybe it was Richie’s presence, maybe it was his simple, but meaningful words. Maybe it was his heartbeat against Eddie’s ear that calmed him. Maybe all three. Eddie’s surface-self got back in the spoken words, and they make Richie laugh. He throws his head back, laughing. It makes Eddie smile. He pulls Richie back to him, still craving his complete touch and presence. And Eddie’s not getting enough of Richie.

“I will say that until the day we both die, and even after that.” Richie assures his love. “I’ll haunt you.” Richie adds a ghost sound at the end of his words for effect. Eddie chuckles. You better, he thinks.

Now the two truly acknowledge their friends around them, opening their eyes to take in all their friends. Are they clean now, do they feel better, what are they doing… Just as Ben and Beverly emerge from the water. Richie smiles at Y/N and Stanley in their lovely position, raising a hand to wave at them. Y/N waves back, her head now turned and her cheek, resting against Stanley’s. Stanley raises a ‘thumbs-up’ to Richie, a silent congratulation and show of pride for his best friend. None of them can stop smiling. Their cheeks are bount to split from smiling.

“We did it, Losers.” Bill says, breaking the silence between the group of eight. He looks around with a proud look on his face. Everyone hums, or nods, along, agreeing. Though there’s still disbelief in most of them that they did. Losers? Do something so heroic? Beat a million-year-old creature who was, apparently, the strongest being in the macroverse, eater of worlds, children, adults and fear? Did they really kill something like that? Completely on their own, with their own mortal devices?

“We fucking did it.” Y/N agrees, nodding. Her eyes slowly, instinctively widen in realisation that her words are true.

“Thanks to Mikey.” Bill continues and pats his mentioned friend on the back. He seems to be doing that a lot lately to his pals. Mike looks to Bill, smiling wide.

“Ah, Bill, it’s thanks to you, as well.” Mike, modest, responds. “Who made us make that promise back then? That was the thing I held onto, it’s why I called you all.” Mike explains and looks at all his friends. “And thank you for actually listening to me and coming back.”

“Yeah, even though a bunch of what you said was bullshit, you’re welcome.” Richie says and gives Mike a wide, sarcastic smile that screams ‘sunshine’. Everyone laughs.

“Love you, too, man.” Mike says, shaking his head and still laughing. “Anyone want some breakfast?” Mike heads back into the real world with a sobering question. His first instinct was to bring his friends over to his place above the library and make them some breakfast, but then Mike realised the physical state of himself—tired, worn-out, no strength in his body anymore. As much as he wished to do something good for his friends, he’s not able to. The thought makes him chuckle to himself.

“Oh, jeez, food…” Ben trails off and holds his stomach. It even grumbles as he touches it, responding, saying “aye, mister, some food would be spectacular!”.

“I forgot that existed, to be fair, until now.” Stanley admits, a weird expression crossing his face. He really hasn’t thought about food since Jade at the Orient. And why hasn’t he? Guess what they were doing, and who they were with—each other—was a thousand times more important than worrying about meals.

“We deserve that, for sure.” Beverly agrees. Her arm sneaks around Ben’s back to lay her hand on his waist. Ben smiles down at her. “Where?” Bev turns to Mike, hoping he’ll know another great place to dine in their old hometown. She can remember a lot, but not places you’d eat, especially since the millenium’s changed and a lot of new things have come into Derry. She couldn’t remember even thinking of a mall opening in Derry until she drove by the only one here on her way to the restaurant a couple nights ago.

“There was some diner a few houses from the hotel.” Eddie says, something scratching his memory. Diner food? In Derry quality? They could settle for the fish, most probably mutated, that swim in this pool, at this point of their days and lives. Anything to feed their now hungry bellies. So diner food doesn’t sound bad to these adults, who’ve grown to like prawn, wine and caviar. But these adults are also the kids who’ve come from quite the country town, grown on eating bacon, eggs, toast and ice cream.

“Works for me.” Stanley says in his soft voice, shrugging.

He sounds different now, almost like something that was in his voice a long time isn’t there anymore, Y/N notices. Something’s lost, something’s went away. What’s gone is fear, and probably anxiety, too. All that fear and anxiety that he got from his teachers, parents, and then IT. He couldn’t have a break as a kid or even a teenager, much less in his adult years. Now that she thinks of it, none of them could. But now they’re free, like Stanley’s voice. He can once again sing melodies in his beautiful bird tembre.

“Come here, everyone.” Eddie calls to his friends. The Losers do as he requests, moving as fast as the water lets them, and when they’re around Richie and Eddie, the two put their arms out to their friends. Stanley chuckles when he realises what’s happening, and gladly hugs his friends back as best he can. This is the first group hug since 1989.

“We really did it. What we promised to.” Beverly says. This realisation dawns on them one by one like the sun touching down into the Quarry pool, reaching their hair and faces slowly, one by one. Some of them sniff.

“I love you guys so much.” Ben says, he’s definitely one of the sniffing ones. Y/N laughs when she hears that he’s gotten sniffy, just like her.

“I love you all more than anything in the whole world.” She tells her friends. “I’m so proud of us.” Her head falls into the crook of Stanley’s neck. She smiles wide. “So proud, I could cry.” She admits and tries to keep her tears in with laughter.

Everyone gives her a sympathetic look, and they realise they feel equally. Though she may be the most emotional out of all of them. She does cry, and she tries to keep quiet. Stanley rubs her back. Everything’s coming out of her. The happiness, the relief of getting rid of it and the grasp of the fact that they were the ones who did it, the gladness of being with her friends and the regret that they didn’t spend their adult years as friends, that they weren’t together. But they’re here all together, again, and more united than ever. And you can hear all of that in her sobs.

“I love you all.” Eddie says next, his empathic look on Y/N lingering. How he loves her, and how he thanks her for giving him courage and motivation to express his feelings and be his true self. He’s gonna thank her after this whole ordeal.

“I love you, dickheads.” Richie goes next and makes everyone laugh again. He does so to stop himself from crying, cause, believe him, he’s close to bawling. His friends are crying, too, they’re all crying tears of joy, tears of remembrance, tears of thankfulness. They’re crying about everything, but they’re laughing, as well. Their emotions and communication only comes with laughter and crying at once. Take it or leave it, it was said by the bleeding and crying Eddie when he laughed hysterically with his friends, the time in 1988 when Bowers had broken his little nose.

“You guys always were and are my best friends.” Bill says, and he sniffs, too.

“You have been my only friends ever.” Beverly admits, and chuckles then.

“Ha-ha, loser.” Richie quips back quickly. No one bothers to beep-beep him, they just laugh.

“I’m very thankful for you guys.” Mike says.

“I don’t know where or who I’d be without you. I love you all so very much.”

Stanley’s the last to speak before they pull away. All eight Losers slowly start moving. They stay closely together, though, as they get out of the water, as they walk up the cliff, put on their shoes and clothes back on, and as they walk into the center of the town. It is a bit chilly, but not cold. It’s almost summer, and May is usually one of the hottest months in Derry, but for now, while the morning chill rushes through town to wake everyone up, they need their jumpers and jackets.

They could never have imagined seeing what they saw. A catastrophe that has become the town of Derry on the sunny morning of 31st of May. Water everywhere. Half the town flooded, everything that they see is covered in water, whether it’s small torrents, water streaming with foam from the drains or Kenduskaeg rumbling with water, threatening to rise above its artificial borders. The waves now, from the incredulous intensity and strength of their movement, look like foam above the green silk of water.

The Losers reach the bridge that leads you to Derry centre and they cross it half-way. They look onto Derry. Mike looks with completely used-to eyes, welcoming the sight of most of his hometown as he always does, with no surprise. Is this really that surprising, the supposed flood? You can’t just kill an entity that has lived almost forever and not expect consequences. But the rest—Bill, Stanley, Eddie, Beverly, Ben, Richiea and Y/N—they’ve still got stuff and places to remember, to greet for the first, but thousandth time. Their old hometown is something new, still.

Derry is empty in the early hour of almost six in the morning. But citizens have always woken up this early, even in Derry. They’ve got work to get to, and have a shower and eat breakfast, and take care of kids who they don’t know at all, and don’t see at all, before they do go to work. So some people must be around somewhere. No people around. Only buildings, floating buses and cars here and, of course, the menacing amount of water. There’s trash cans that the water has moved from their rightful places, their contents floating on the surface.

Stanley sighs, his head resting on Y/N’s. “What the fuck happened here?” He questions, inwardly trying to figure out the answer. Was there a storm and we didn’t hear it because we were deep under the earth? Or…

“I think it’s us.” Bill says with a huff, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His brow is deeply furrowed as he looks upon this town that he was once both the scum and the king of.

“The sewer place did come down, right?” Richie agrees with an uncertain question.

“Makes sense.” Ben shrugs, willing to go with it. No one must know that it’s practically their fault. How controversial—they save the lives of current and future Derry residents, committing heroic actions, but therefore cause a natural disaster that could paint them as the complete opposites of heroes. But it feels as though no one will ever know that it was them eight who lifted the curse, who saved the future and the future children of Derry. How could anyone know? Adults here don’t see a thing, they don’t know of a clown that used to live in the sewers and they don’t notice the things or peope who stand out. The Losers, least of all, they’ve been the unnoticed, beaten-at scum of Derry since elementary school.

So they’re destined to be unnoticed heroes. Perhaps some day, hopefully soon, someone wakes up and realises that something is different. Something in the air, something in themselves, something about others. And maybe they’ll finally notice the rot in their basement and do something about it. Maybe a parent will finally see that their kid is not feeling good at all, and they’ll talk to them. Someone’ll notice the bruises on their kids’ knees and face, and ask about them. Someone will see a dead body in the alleyway and actually scream, and then call the police.

Some day, someone will. They’ll know something’s changed in the air of Derry. But they’ll never know what exactly, and they’ll never know who to thank for it. Or maybe, because it’s been so unnoticed all their present lives, they won’t notice it’s gone, anyway. Ben looks over Derry with tired, knowing eyes.

“IT did come from the sewers.” Mike states, supporting his friends’ assumption. They all breathe a heavy sigh. Something starts an itchy feeling in Stanley’s left hand. He raises it up to look at what’s bothering his hand.

The scar. The one that came back a few days ago is now fading. “Hey,” Stanley starts softly, but can’t seem to finish his sentence because his breath catches in his throat. He wouldn’t know what to alert his friends about, either, not fully realising what’s happening to the scar. But they look at him and do the same with their left palms. All their scars are healing. They’re gone in a few seconds, their palms’ skin clean and flat as if nothing had ever touched them.

Almost as if the promise that they made in 1989 just stopped existing. Like it’s forgotten all of a sudden. This could only mean that the job… is done. The promise was true, and tender, and strong with the will and love that belonged to eight little hearts. And now it’s fulfilled, and it’s done.

The Losers turn to each other and smile. There’s lots of reasons why they should, and maybe, you never know, they might be smiling for all of them. They, like their promise, survived. Forgotten for twenty-seven years, like the adventurous childhood, the promise stayed, united them again and came true.

Looking over their hometown, the Losers feel like they’re watching a movie. A movie made about their childhood. Wouldn’t that be one colourful flick? Too weird, probably, to make even a hundred bucks at the box office. But then again, the story would most likely be better than any of Bill’s novels. At least the endings. This ending… This ending is good. This ending is what they all deserve.

They see Eddie, Richie and Bill running from Bowers and his goons down the street from Keene’s. It’s so flooded now you can only see the banner of the store. They see Mike biking down the middle of the street and turning into the butcher’s sidestreet. Now there’s a big pile of trash floating in the water where the alley should be. Then there’s Beverly going home with her bike and Bill pushing heavy, big Silver up the bridge. The fire stairs of the house Bev once lived in, a third of them are hidden in the green water. Stan, Ben and Eddie walking from the direction of the Barrens, laughing, their shoes wet and knees a bit green. They’re thinking about getting ice cream.

Suddenly, a cheerful yelp comes from behind the Losers. They turn around to look and spot a lady in the lot between vacant amusement rides. She’s holding a purse and waving at them. The Losers now realise they must look pretty suspicious, what with wet clothing and plain standing in the middle of the bridge. Mike’s the first to wave back to her. But, from their point of view, it doesn’t look like she’s suspicious of them. Though that might be just optimism in their brains.

Little do they know, a guy working in one of the amusement rides just clocked into work on May 30th, and noticed them. He immediately snapped a pic, thinking ‘this is gonna be on the news’. On June 1st Derry’s, Bangor’s and Augusta’s newspaper stands will be filled with Maine Daily’s copy with that picture on the front page, titled Survivors!. In the picture, they’re standing on the bridge and looking out towards the fair rides, Mike waving his hand. What a warm front page picture that will be.

The Losers make their way down the bridge, towards the amusement park where the lady stands. They walk as quick as they can with all their exhaustion and some wounds on the side. This is the direction they’re heading in, anyway, the Derry Inn is a few blocks behind where the amusement park stands. None of the rides are working yet, the park hasn’t started to work yet, so aside from the lady calling out to them and the constant water rumbling sounds, everything’s quiet. Silence in Derry, as it always has been. Fair, there have been a bunch of screams and cries, but has anyone really paid attention? That’s all been background noise.

The lady puts her hands on her hips, looking over the eight adults. She’s older than them, that’s for sure, years ten to twenty at least, so her look is stern and analysing. The Losers would usually grow a bit weary under that sort of gaze, but they’re braver now than ever. “Looks like you lot have been through… I’d say hell, but really, it’s water.” She says with a laugh, and they all laugh.

“We’ve been that, ma’am.” Eddie confirms, nodding. She worriedly eyes the men holding hands, but doesn’t say anything on it. She huffs.

“You definitely need to get to the hospital, sir.” She points down at Eddie’s bleeding side. He’s made quite the trail from the Quarry to the amusement park with his blood. Eddie looks down at himself.

“No worries, I’m fine.” He tells the lady, and desperately tries to make up a quick lie about his wounded situation, but finds he can’t and that the lady isn’t that curious, anyway. Maybe the people of Derry are still as unsuspeting as before.

“Got a place to be?” The lady asks after giving the wounded side an inspecting glance. The Losers look between themselves and agree on one thing.

“A warm bed.” Ben voices it. The lady nods, finding their appearances quite worrysome. Having spent her life as a mother and now grandmother, this look of worry turns into one of care.

“Yes, you must be freezing. Don’t you catch a cold, summer’s coming.” She smiles at them. “Drink some ginger tea, that’ll put you right.”

“We know.” Richie nods. Adults have always talked about ginger tea, camomile tea, green tea, and it feels like they might never stop. Nothing’s changed. “Everything’s back to normal now.” He says, even more to himself than the lady or his friends. He’s back in reality, in the normal, real world, whatever that has ever meant. In the regular world, there’s tea, old caring ladies, amusement parks and diner breakfasts.

“I hope you’re not talking about the lake that our town has turned into.” The lady shakes her head. Y/N thinks she recognises her tone of voice and the way with words, and she squints at the lady, trying to make out where she’s met her before. The feeling is very strong.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. It’s gonna be just fine.” Bill tells her and extends his hand for her to shake. She eyes him with a raised eyebrow, but shakes his hand nonetheless. Bill looks strongly into her eyes. “Everything’s gonna change for the better now.” He says to her and walks past. His friends follow him, giving kind smiles to the lady as they pass her. She’s utterly confused, but feels strangely reassured by these eight wet, wondering adults. She turns around to watch them as they go. But a certain questions itches her brain.

“Who the hell are you guys?” She asks now, one hand on her hip, waiting for them to turn around. They slowly do, and they’re still smiling like the packet of sunshines that they are.

“We’re the Losers.” Beverly tells her. Bill raises his hand up in a peace sign. She chuckles, shakes her head and watches them turn back around and go where they’ve planned to. They’ve left her perfectly astounded to her own devices. She looks onto them for a few more seconds, wonders if the eight wet adults are even locals, but then she shrugs and gets back on her journey to work.

“That was our History teacher.” Y/N tells her friends once they. Some of their heads turn to her. They try to remember school, and History class, and the teacher. Some of them do remember her.

“Is that right?” Beverly asks and Y/N nods. The teacher looked younger when they went to school, that’s for absolutely sure. Always wore a white blouse and a dark green skirt and black heels. Her hair was always up in a bun secured by metal pins, which, if you didn’t behave, tended to fly in your direction from the front desk.

“Yeah, she looked kinda familiar.” Ben says as his arm goes around Beverly’s waist. She rests her head on his shoulder, her own arm coming around him again. Y/N smiles at them and turns closer into her own lover. Stanley looks down for a second, and that same warm smile crosses his lips.

“The ’give no shit, take no shit’ attitude felt met before, now that I think of it.” Richie admits. His friends laugh.

“She’s got more skin now, though.” Y/N points out, and they laugh some more. The lady’s face was really wrinkly, some of the skin even hanging past her jaw, around the cheeks. She shivers. That’s always made old grannies creepier to her.

“Ah, there’s the diner!” Eddie exclaims, pointing a finger ahead of them. The Losers raise their heads, and see that there’s a red sign with white letter that says nothing other than “24/7 DINER”. Stanley smiles wide. Their solace in the early morning hour.

The Losers reach the Diner and spot their hotel standing only four houses from where they stand now. Eddie’s navigation is never wrong, after all. The eight contemplate between going to the hotel first, shower and change and then eat or eat now and then do the rest. They decide for the ladder, of course, they could not make it ten more feet without getting some food first. They’d collapse straight down onto the old pavement of the street.

Bill puts his hand on the entrance door handle and peers inside, checking if the diner really is working. Ah, no worries, Big Bill, see—there’s Suzie and Bob and Mathilda, the regular employees, behind the counter, waiting for the first costumers to come in—you lot. Quite a deserted neighbourhood for a diner to be in, even in Derry, Bill thinks. The only source of money could be from the Derry Inn, who also offer breakfast. Bill sighs and sees himself in the reflection on the glass door. He’s met with a tired face with wrinkles slowly etching into the skin. Tired, and looking far older than forty, but relieved. His gray streak is now more noticable than when he first arrived. He pushes the handle down, opens the door and walks inside. The smell of cooked eggs and bacon hits his nose instantly.

Mike’s next to enter, then Richie helps Eddie go in before himself, then Ben and Bev get inside and, last but not least, Stanley and Y/N. And on her way inside the diner, Y/N sees reflections on the diner glass door, standing behind her like ghosts. Some instinct tells her to look behind her, but she does no such thing. She knows nothing is gonna be there if she turns around.

The reflections she sees are the eight of them, but not as adults—as children. And seeing their little, innocent faces, the faces full of youth and prosperity and potential, she almost tears up. The looks of innocence, and hope for better lives after this, of better lives outside of Derry. Hopes for their parents’ understanding. Hopes for better. Her eyes linger on them for a while, all standing, brave little children, in the sun touched street of Derry. Instead of crying, Y/N smiles at the eight kids through the reflection. It’s gonna be alright, Losers, hold on to your dreams and hopes. 

Stanley holds the door for her and gives her his hand. He’s confused as to why she’s smiling at the glass door so warmly. If he wasn’t, in fact, Stanley Uris and she wasn’t Y/N Y/L/N and if this wasn’t Derry, he’d think her insane. But she looks at him, eyes full of hope and love, takes his hand and walks through the entrance, leaving the ghosts of their childhoods behind her.

A/N: Am I about to cry? Because I love the Losers so much? And because I think writing this has given me closure after reading IT and the events of IT2? Yes. Yes I am. What do you mean this is not what happened? Excuse me, you’re being very rude. Did this not happen in y’all’s screening of IT: Ch2? No? Well, that’s strange… I remember these exact scenes and words. Ofc, Y/N is an inserted character, but other than that, everything was the same ??? Did we go to different movies??


	16. nothing lasts forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for a well-deserved break, as well as a victory meal.

“Could we have six menus and a first-aid kit?” Richie Tozier asks the young waitress who has approached their miserable-looking table. Her eyebrows raise and she scans the eight adults to see why they would need a first aid kit—not that it’s any of her business—and she screams, coming across Eddie’s bleeding side. The Losers flinch at the high pitch of her scream.

“You need to get to the hospital!” She says, tears streaming down her face. Now this one’s quite emotional for six o’clock in the morning, the Losers think in unison and exchange looks between themselves, finding it imposible to say any words at the current moment. 

“I promise, he’s fine.” Richie tells the girl, looking at her through his thick glasses.

“It’s just a scratch.” Eddie says non-chalantly, and the waitress thinks to herself that these really are a bunch of crazy people, as she presumed when they walked inside the diner. “Besides, I’m a doctor. Could you please bring the menus and the first-aid kit?” He squints and tries his best at a smile at the crying waitress. 

She gathers herself, wipes her tears and smiles as wide as up to her ears. “Right away.” She says in a squeaky voice and leaves their table. The Losers exchange looks between themselves once again, overwhelmed by the events of the night and by the heavily emotional waitress that they have to deal with. They huddle closer together to one another in their red-and-white leather seated booth. 

The place smells of freshly cooked food, coffee and cigarettes. Oh, they’ll all definitely have coffee. A mood and energy booster, that’s for sure, that’s what they need. Though none of them are sure they even have such a thing as a ‘mood’, or ever will. This morning they’re certainly not in any kind of mood. To be completely honest, the Losers feel quite hollow. They feel completed, and they feel a lot of love and pride, but they feel empty inside, as if there’s a hole in their chests and it keeps getting more hollow. 

Stanley’s head rests on Y/N’s shoulder, his hair fallen against her delicate neck. She runs her fingers slowly through his semi-dry curls. Only the roots have dried, and slowly the draught moves further through his jet black strands, taking its time. Stanley places his hand over Y/N’s in his lap, their fingers intertwining seconds after. She lays a kiss on his forehead, and he closes his eyes. You can be at peace.

Y/N looks onto Eddie and Richie, both anxiously waiting for that requested first-aid kit. But they look more peaceful than ever before and Y/N thinks, they all must look that way. Richie’s arm has fallen with natural force around Eddie’s shoulders, and Eddie holds that slack hand in his own, creating a lock of security around himself. Richie’s other hand is drumming against the marbled surface of the table, and he looks at Bev and Ben across the table.

They’re talking to themselves abotu something so quietly that no one can hear them. Their foreheads are pressed together and they’re playing with each other’s hands softly, playfully. Bev’s crimson locks touch Ben’s cheek ever so softly and he closes his eyes. January embers. He opens his eyes again and looks strongly into Bev’s. My heart burns there, too.

Bill tries not to watch them too strikingly. But it’s hard, his first supposed crush and love sitting at the other end of the table with his best friend, completely in their own world, completely in love. It’s hard for his heart, to be precise. His mind knows better. You know better, Bill, you have a wife that you love and, now that you think of it, looks a lot like Bev here. And Beverly’s happy. So are the rest of your friends. You’ll go home and you’ll be happy, too. Back home with Audra, her movies, your novels and their shitty endings. 

Maybe I don’t want to go home, he finds himself thinking. And he’s a bit surprised by that thought. Hmm. What does that mean? Maybe I could live in Derry, spend the rest of my days here, watching as the town, hopefully, evolves, changes. Maybe he can live with Mike now. Bill looks over at his friend. Mike’s smiling, smiling for his friends and his own self, but he’s not looking at them. Mike is probably gonna stay, isn’t he? So what’s so bad about me staying here, and with him? 

Actually Bill doesn’t even wanna think about going back what’s been, for the last thirteen years, considered home. The thought of it makes him sick, for some reason. Maybe he’s not yet ready to think about it all, think about the possibility of going back to England and telling Audra they’re moving to Derry. Yeah, she is not gonna like it at all. And he’s not gonna like that she won’t like it. The thought of it makes him sick, as already said. 

“Here are your menus and the kit.” The waitress has returned, and she doesn’t look shabby anymore. She lays out the menus on the table with her delicate, seemingly teenage hands, and puts the first-aid kit on the table in front of Eddie. 

“Thanks so much.” Eddie speaks his thanks the loudest, and the young girl leaves again. Eddie immediately opens the red box and searches for disinfectant and bandages. He finds a bottle of Equate antiseptic and hands it to Richie, continuing his search for cotton gauze and pads, assuming he won’t find plasters as big as he needs in here. 

Richie unscrews the antiseptic and lifts up Eddie’s shirt. Jeez Louise, it’s a bloodbath. Eddie’s started to bleed onto the seat. Y/N sees their desperate situation and hands the box of tissues on the windowsill to Richie. But Richie gives them to Mike, so he can help clean the wound while Richie cleans it with wipes Eddie’s found in the box. 

“You’re losing a shit ton of blood, dude, you feeling okay?” Richie asks Eddie, carefully cleaning the scrape in his side. Eddie winces here and there, and even draws back when it really stings. 

“I’m fine.” Eddie replies in that same non-chalant voice he’s used for the past half hour. “It’s not that much, anyway.” Richie shakes his head at that statement. They’re almost done with cleaning the skin and wound. The blood still flows, though. 

“We’re going to the hospital later.” Richie states in a soft, commanding voice. Eddie doesn’t really pay mind to Richie’s words, having trouble connecting to thoughts about the next five minutes. He’s gathered some bandages from all that he could find in the kit. Then Eddie looks down at his left side and groans.

“Looks like something took a bite out of me.” He states, looking at the obvious strike in his skin and a bit further than that. There’s other layers visible already, a darker red than his skin. Muscle, that is, and he can see some blood vessels too. Oh, dear God, he’s going to faint. The blood flow is not stopping. 

“Be thankful it didn’t.” Richie reminds him. Eddie takes some medical wool and gives it to Richie. He puts it, as softly as he can, directly into the wound after it’s disinfected, to hopefully stop the blood drip for at least a while. Eddie winces, and his face scrunches so much he feels tears squirting out at the corners of his eyes. That is not a nice feeling at all. 

Mike presses his hand on the wool to keep it there while Richie gets bandages from Eddie. He puts the biggest plasters at the top and bottom of the wound, securing the wool, and Mike lets go. Then Eddie adds more wool, puts tissues and bandages over it, and Richie helps him secure it all with gauze. Quite messy, but for the time until they’re in the hospital, this will have to last. Richie cleans up the blood around their make-shift work place and puts Eddie’s shirt back down. They throw the tissues in a trash can under their table—wow, they have that kind of thing here?—and lean against the sofa, both tired, more tired than before.

“No staph infections in our lifetime.” Richie states between yawns. The ones who were there, in the back alley where the two holy words were spoken first, laugh. But Mike and Bev only share looks of confusion. Richie lays a kiss atop of Eddie’s head and embraces him back in his arms. Now they have time to look at what the menu’s offering.

Y/N opens the menu in front of her and Stanley so they can both read it at once. Stanley sighs. “I don’t have my glasses.” He mewls. The words printed on the laminated paper are blurry to him, and he realises his obstacles are either back at the hotel or lost in the over-flown sewers or the underground lair. He blinks his eyes twice, but he still can’t read anything except for Derry Diner Menu, which are much larger and in bold. 

Y/N tilts her head to rest on his. “Breakfast. Pancakes - ones with caramel, ones with chocolate, ones with bacon and cheese, ones with berries and fruit, ones with ice cream…” She reads out loud. “Country breakfast - ham, eggs, fries, baked beans. Eggs Benedict, Lobster Benedict, Irish Benedict, Eggs Florentine, waffles, steak & eggs.” She sighs. “Anything strike your fancy?”

Stanley shrugs. “Keep reading.” He says, and feels his eyelids and chest heavy. Her voice is so sweet and soothing. Y/N nods.

“Breakfast burrito, mac and cheese, mac and cheese with lobster,” she widens her eyes, “chili, chicken pot pie… turkey, roast beef sandwhiches… sea food, side orders…” she flips through the menu, which requires to move the arm that’s around Stanley. And she finds that his body is limp against hers. She worriedly looks down. 

His breath passes through his slightly parted lips, his eyes are closed and his face is completely relaxed. He’s asleep. Y/N almost laughs into his face, but she turns away and suppresses her giggles. Her friends look at her. “He’s fallen asleep.” She tells them in a whisper, pointing down at Stanley. They nod and most of them smile. No wonder. They feel like doing the same, and they’re actually on the verge, if they weren’t concentrating on reading the menu and hoping for coffee soon. 

Y/N stops her giggling fit and looks down at the menu again. What do I want, what do I want… “What are you guys gonna order?” She asks her friends. 

“Probably pancakes.” Comes from Bev, who’s decided for both her and Ben.

“Us too.” Mike informs. “Bacon?” He asks.

“Berries.” Ben responds. 

“We’re gonna get that country breakfast or whatever.” Richie says. “To get proper fat, you know, grow into Eddie’s mom.” He explains further and everyone giggles, even Eddie himself. 

Y/N hums. “I’ve got no idea. I want everything, but it just won’t fit.” She states and Bill chuckles. “I know what to order for Stanley, but myself…”

“Take the same and stop working your brain.” Mike suggests. Y/N looks at him.

“It’s worked enough for the past hours.” Bill supports his argument. Her eyes shift to Bill, and then she looks down at the menu again, a smile on her face now. 

“I guess it’s just that easy now.” She admits and closes the menu, putting it on the table instead. Making decisions really is that easy now. She leans back into the seat, Stanley’s body moving with hers. He gets more comfortable while sleeping, his face nuzzling into her neck, tickling her a bit, and his arms going around her, securing themselves together at her waist. Y/N smiles and hugs him back, resting her cheek on his curls. She closes her eyes. 

“What will you have?” Bill asks her and she opens an eye to look at him, her own eyelids feeling sort of heavy now. “Before you join him.” He whispers, smiling. She smiles back.

“Love you, Bill.” She tells him sincerely. “Eggs Benedict for us both.” She says and Bill nods. “And coffee, too. Both black, but two sugars in Stanley’s.” She’s surprised herself that she still knows how he likes his coffee, or which breakfast option he’d always choose. It’s like it’s basic knowledge now, something that’s imprinted in her mind and feels like it’s been that way since she can remember. She closes her eyes again and lets her exhaustion take over. She wants to rest, just for a little bit, just lay with Stanley for a while.

She did join him in sleeping for a while. Bill wakes her up when the food and coffees have arrive, starting to tickle her, Ben doing the same to Stanley. The two adults jolt awake, eyes wide and confused, and make their friends laugh. 

“Morning, sleepyheads.” Richie nods to them with a smile. Stanley nods right back and Y/N and he both right themselves, sitting up straight. Y/N moves her hair behind her ear and Stanley flattens his shirt. They look down at the fresh food in front of them, though their vision and look on their environement is still hazy from the good-as-hell nap they just woke up from. 

“Bone, apple, tit, was it?” Richie suggests as a toast for the Losers’ diner breakfast. Everyone laughs once more, but they clink their coffee cups together, repeating Richie’s ridiculous words and they laugh again, harder this time. Languages have never been Richie’s strongest side. 

They all drink coffee in unison and regain some amount energy at that, then delve into their steaming breakfast which fill their noses up to the maximum with utterly irresistible aromas. Richie, like the beast he is, devours half of his plate in the first few minutes while everyone else devours their food bit by bit. But everyone is so endorsed in eating that they don’t pay mind to their friends, for the time they’re eating they even forget they’re with their friends, lest someone else entirely. Food is very good right now. Heavenly, if you might.

When they’re done, they all slump into their seats, letting out groans of content and holding their bellies. “For a diner, that was really good.” Bill says. Y/N laughs. Bill, Eddie, Stanley, Ben—cross that, all of them, except herself and Mike, have grown used to dining at fancy restaurants where it costs to even reserve a table, grown used to making great mega-dishes at home for themselves. They’ve grown used to business events with crazy dinners and a wide range of appetisers. Champagne, wine, whiskey of the highest classes. So this is entirely out of their usual menu, and Bill is, of course, taking it like a snob. Hence Y/N laughed. 

She and Mike have not lived the life their friends have. Not that it’s bad lives they’ve been living upto this point, just different, way different from most of the Losers Club. Y/N hasn’t become a famous writer, architect or fashion designer, neither has Mike. So for one, their daily routine differs, and two, their eating habits differ from their friends’. Diner food may be the lowest of them all, considered so by the highest class of society, but Y/N can safely admit that she likes diner food and doesn’t mind having it once in a while. And what can Mike have in this shithole town, anyway, other than make-believe restaurant meals, takeout and diners? Neither of them mind eating here now or any other time. 

“I want more.” Y/N manages to croak out, and everyone laughs. “Anyone up for a sundae split?”

“Ugh, we’re really gonna get fat.” Eddie sighs. 

“Haystack’s gonna have a come-back!” Richie announces and changes his face into an excited expression. But he still makes his friends laugh, including Ben himself. His laughter rumbles deep and low like a bear’s roar.

“I’ll have a sundae split with you, Y/N/N.” Beverly says, then. Y/N smiles at her. 

“Anyone up for a Diet Coke and salad?” Mike asks now, and they all laugh again. Richie joins the girls for a sundae split, and the rest agree with Mike’s offer. 

“Wait, wasn’t Y/N working in a diner for a while? In, like, high school?” Eddie asks now, as they wait for the waitress, and he looks at Y/N. She looks at him, tired and full from the eggs, but nods. 

“I was.” She confirms. “Not this one, though, the one in the center of town.” She leans towards the table to sit proper and rests her elbows on the surface. She crosses her arms and puts her chin on top of them. “After Bowers and Cockstetter were… out of the picture, I had the freedom to work in the skirt the diner required me to.” She recalls. Those boys were always onto her and Beverly, while they were still alive, which made it hard for them to ever wear something remotely feminine. They always got some sort of cat-calls, and groping was the worst of what would come from them. “Jesus…” 

“What scumbags they were.” Beverly joins in, also leaning against the table. She moves her hair out of her face, and looks to Y/N, but Ben’s worried gaze catches her eye instead. She turns to him. He only reaches for her hand with his own. I’m here now. 

“You working in a diner was the best thing, Y/N.” Richie says, putting emphasis on ‘best’. She looks at him now and smiles, remembering how stoked they all were for free food and the food that she actually made. Mostly deserts. Stanley’s arm makes its way around her waist. She leans closer to him. “I mean, the birthday parties there were amazing. Nothing could top them.”

“Wow, Rich, even college and work parties?” Mike asks, and they both chuckle.

“You bet your fur, Mikey,” Richie says, patting his friend’s shoulder. He looks reminiscent for a second, his head hangs down, and then he tries to put it into words, “you know, I think—I think because childhood, and teenage years, were the best part of my life. I mean, I’m forty now, so I’m old enough to say shit like that, you know, but… It’s true. I know that I thought it then and I know it now—those were the best parties of my life.” He admits and looks around at his friends. “Because—because I was still young, and because it was the best childhood, I think, any kid could wish for. Even counting in all the shame, the fear, and IT. And because I was with you guys.” 

A silence falls upon the Losers Club. But they smile at Richie, and at each other, realising that’s true. Those were the best years of their lives, and actually, taking the horrible parts, the best childhood any child could wish for. The best friends anyone could wish for to spend that childhood and those confusing, difficult teenage years with. Without each other, they wouldn’t be the same, and they wouldn’t be as strong and as full of love and, perhaps, belief. 

“You know…” Stanley starts to say, they look at him, “nothing lasts forever.” He states, shaking his head with a dreamy look in his eyes. Nothing does seem to last forever, that is true. But he has a feeling of differing in opinion with his own statement. Nothing lasts forever—the monster they thought had lived under Derry forever, eaten its kids and other residents, cast a spell on the adults and the whole air of Derry, is now dead. So that doesn’t last forever. The promise they made—it is fulfilled now, meaning it won’t last forever, either. It lasted as long as needed to unite them all again. But this… what they have…

“Except for friendship.” Y/N says, looking at him. “And love.” Yes, friendship and love. Those will last forever. The love they have for each other will outlive all their future deaths, all their future kids’ deaths, and their kids’ deaths. This love, and this bond, it will last forever. It will always be somewhere in the predicted long life of the Earth and humanity. It will fly with the wind, blossom in flowers and rosy cheeks, it will swim with the ocean and breathe with the air. Always.

“And love.” Eddie says it with Y/N in unison. They smile at each other. Love. What a wonderful thing. It might as well be a living creature, like fear was. Only much stronger.

“Desire.” Ben suggests. Beverly closes her eyes and leans her head on his shoulder. I know, Ben. But we’re here now. All the desire pent up in teenage and adult years seems much lighter now. For Beverly, Ben and for Richie and Eddie, too. And for Stanley and Y/N. All their desire towards each other has finally been released, even if the door to it is only open in a narrow slit now. Desire might as well live in all eight of them, desire for each other, desire to meet each other again, desire to have that unbreakable friendship again. Desire for that lived in their hearts all these empty years, it was unknown and mysterious, a feeling they could not guess. Now it’s known, and out in the open, nothing to hide from each other. Or anyone else, for that matter. They’re proud.

The Losers Club fall silent, but comfortably so. They’re finally in a comfortable state with themselves and each other, and with the world around them. Strange, vile and ignorant as it may be, the world is truly amazing, though, and much bigger than they all thought. Brought them together that one summer, made a bond that will last forever. They’ve got a lot to thank it for. But they’ve also got every reason to kick the world in the butt and other places. 

For now, they’ll let it slide. For now, they’re only focused on being in the diner, getting desert and then showering. Most importantly, for now, they’ve got each other, safe and healthy, and that’s all they need. That will do. 

“Anything else you’d like to order?”


	17. never let her go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heart-strings and brain muscles are pulled. Time is counted.

Oh, is clean water good. Clean, warm, soapy water. Better than sex, she even dares to think. She smiles to herself at the thought. Stanley looks at her, a soft question in his eyes. Not the sex she has with him. She shakes her head, and then rests it against his wet chest. The shower’s water streams down onto them, warm and welcoming, warm and soothing, warm and healing. It collects their hair into dark, thick locks. The shower’s floor shines with water that is now filthy from all the dirt on their bodies.

Bill collected all their dirty clothing and went to wash it in the hotel’s washing machines. He’d get to shower the last, but he didn’t mind. All of them using water at once wouldn’t be useful, either, but that he’ll leave it to their concern. Mike offered to use his washing machine at the Library, but since he lives quite far from the Derry Inn, they all decided to pass this suggestion.

Y/N’s palms are flat against Stanley’s bare back. It’s littered with birthmarks all over, Y/N discovers when she feels small, almost unnoticeable bumps under her fingers. Stanley, instead, opens the shampoo bottle the hotel offers and squeezes half of it out into his hand. He then runs his shampoo-y hands into Y/N’s hair, against her scalp. She hums. Stanley moves the shampoo into her hair, massaging circles into her scalp. She smiles softly at the gesture.

He does the same to his own hair, and Y/N chuckles at how weird he looks with his hair slicked back. “Reminds me of your Bar Mitzvah hair.” She says and Stanley gives her an airy chuckle in response. He remembers his mom’s effort and frustration into gelling his unbending acorn curls down neatly to his head.

“That was horrible.”

“No, no, that was a statement.” She corrects him and they both laugh. Her arms around him, hands on his back and his arms around her waist, hands interlocked to keep her intact in his embrace, they look up dreamily at each other. The water frustrates their eyes a small bit, making them blink more than usual.

Gazing into each other’s eyes transmits more emotions between them than they could muster to say in the same amount of time. Words really are hard to find to say all that Stanley could say to Y/N, about how much she means to him, about how he can’t breathe without her, how he needs her, how he wants to cherish her and love her for the rest of his life, and how he wishes they never parted. He also wants to say a big thank you for giving his strength, courage and self-belief back simply by talking, by being with him. He could not have gotten into this shower-bathtub, for example, without her help, without her words. Let alone Derry or Neibolt House.

Y/N would like to tell Stanley how grateful she is for his love, and that it is he who loves her. She would want to let him know that he’s the most important person in her life, that he means the most to her, and that she’d do anything to turn back time and relive her—their both’s—life differently, together. Happy.

How happy, how much more happier they’d be if things had turned out differently. And she wants to tell him how grateful she is for him to be here, right now, as well as tell him how privileged she is to love him, and to have him love her back, how privileged it is to hold his hand and look into his eyes.

But to not waste any emotional and physical material, they suffice with a simple—

“I love you.” She tells him in a quiet whisper. It almost drowns with the water in the dark drain of the sewer pipes. She leans up to kiss his lips. She can taste the coffee he drank earlier still, and the water. She smiles, and she kisses him again. And again. She chases his lips with hers, her hands pushing against him slowly, not at once, but slowly, begging. She kisses him, and she almost melts.

Stanley moves her rogue hair strands out of her face, and holds her cheek while looking into her eyes. His orbs move back and forth only the slightest. A corner of his lips raises ever so slightly. “I love you.” He assures her and kisses her again. He then kisses her forehead and pulls her into an embrace against his chest. Even his chest hairs have flattened down from the water, she can barely feel them against her cheek. She closes her eyes, and so does Stanley.

Something about the way he holds her, something about the way he shuts his eyes when he does. Thoughts of what is to come creep into his mind now, despite how badly he wants them not to. What if this is the last time I have her to myself? Selfish to think of her like that, but… She’s the most beautiful angel I’ve met in my life. I want to spend my entire life with her, I want to give her what I did not for the twenty years spent apart. What if, when I go back home, my mind will be changed about her? What if we’ll forget each other again, like last time?

But what if you don’t go home, Stanley? Maybe go to her home, or go home with her. Not your home, but one that would belong to you both. And Patty? What of her? Do I not call her or visit her? Do I just leave her in the dark? I can’t do that to her. After all we’ve been through, after loving one another for so long… After being married, and happily at that, after her trusting me so much…

Do you still love Patty as you did before Mike called you? As you did when she helped you pack clothes and essentials for this trip? How will you tell her you’ve met the love of your life, the love of your childhood again and made love to her in another city, another state? Another place, or void, completely foreign and strange to Patty and her whole life, and how she knows life in general? It will break her. Would it be better if you didn’t tell her at all? No, no, I can’t leave her wondering in the dark.

What if you love them both? What do you do then? Marry Y/N and live together as three married people? That’s complete craziness, Stanley. You can’t do that. But if I can’t choose… If I can’t choose between the two women I love most, what do I do then? Leave them both and live alone? Or should I choose? Which option would be better for everyone involved? Do I choose to be selfish and choose Y/N or Patty for the rest of my life? That’s only fair to me, and I can’t stand by that. But…

Stanley can’t live without Y/N. Maybe it’s just what he thinks now because he’s met her again, but then again—there wouldn’t be these feelings if there wasn’t an old cause for them, old roots grow out of something, not nothing. And they do have roots. Childhood. High school. Before college. The first year of college. Then it faded away… But these feelings are still here, they’re still real, present and true. They’re as intense as before, if not more. It is beyond love and belonging and craving, it is far more than they as mortal humans can understand, can know that they feel. He can only give her the tip of the iceberg that is his whole love, emotions and feelings for him. He can only do so much with his human mind and body.

But Patty… He loves Patty so much. They’ve been married for more than ten years, and found solace in each other. They loved each other even when they could not get children, they loved each other when they’ve woken up to a sour day, they loved each other even when they drive each other nuts (which is rare in their earthly, calm marriage). What fun have they had in these happy, peaceful years… Stanley would not trade it for the world. Ah, then and there, maybe. But here and now…

He doesn’t know. He can’t decide.

But somehow… The marriage ring that lays in the drawer of this hotel room’s nightstand, it feels like an anchor. And it feels old, as well, as strange as it sounds. Old, as if Stanley had lived in a past life with that ring and the person who carries the other ring, the rigs a promise to be man and wife until death do them part.

But it’s not death that will do them part. The happy, peaceful years he lived with Patty were simply years and time that fed on forgetfulness of crucial things such as childhood, and friends, and dreams that little kid Stanley Uris wanted to achieve in life. They were years of tunnel vision, of ignorance, but not his own. His self-consciousness’ ignorance caused by the magical curse IT laid upon Stanley and his friends once they left the town of Derry.

It’s best to think about it on the flight home, not now, about choosing the best option. Shower, heal and spend time with her. Heal together. You’re both still here, so right now you might as well use it selfishly, while you have that. Stanley opens his eyes and looks down at Y/N. The water runs in his eyes a few times. She moves back to look back at him, feeling a slight change in his position. She blinks, because the water gets into her eyes, as well, but she smiles. Stanley does as well, and then he reaches behind her to turn off the shower stream.

Naturally, they both shiver out of loss of warm water, but then hurry out of the bath-shower to wrap themselves in towels. Stanley helps Y/N not fall over on the slippery surface, what with having as many fears as she does. It’s a bath, after all, and he feels they’ll always frighten him a little bit from now on.

They both reach for the towels hanging on the heating pipes, and Y/N hums at the contact with her towel. It’s better than nice, and it’s better than perfect. She feels like falling asleep in this towel. Surprisingly soft for hotel towels.

They dry their hair out as much as they can with single towels, and then wrap the towels around their bodies. Non-verbally, maybe telepathically, they decide to wash their teeth. Stanley uses his own toothbrush and paste, but Y/N uses the tools their hotel provides—in the rush to catch the first flight to Maine she forgot to pack her tooth essentials. How silly and unhygienic of her, you might think. Not in her situation, not this time. Tooth cleaning essentials were really the smallest and most unimportant thing then.

Nor Stanley, nor Y/N speak much. There’s silence between them, tense but peaceful. So many questions nag at both their minds, so many questions they want to ask each other, mostly many uncomfortable questions. Answers to them would be too painful, too frustrating and hard to deal with, in general. Hence the questions are not asked. Many things they’d like to say to each other, but neither of them want to make this a book or movie scene, understand, with confrontation and dramatics. They just… They just really want to be here. They want to live and breathe and move without any complications or heavy-weighing anchors.

Y/N steals a shirt from Stanley, he’s already used it in this trip, and he had folded it to pack into his bag. He snatched his hand after her, but she’d already pulled the shirt over her head and naked breasts and stomach, too late for him to get it back. He looks at her, defeated, and she gives him the tip of her tongue sticking out between her lips. Now he can’t help but smile at her, she never fails to make him smile. With her simple enchanting grace and comedic mannerisms. Sometimes Stanley thinks her funnier than Richie Tozier himself.

Stanley now straightens up in his other button-up and underwear and watches her gracefully waltzing back into the bathroom, only in his shirt and her knickers. He can see wet spots on the shirt’s shoulders and over the breasts and back from her free-falling wet hair strands.

How magnificent is she. Arms like feather wings, legs like intertwining ribbons that dance so easily to their own beat. Hair of a color that reminds him of sunny summer and spring days, as well as dark winter afternoons, autumn mornings. Hands with the pads of cotton, cheeks plump and full of color like bright red roses. Her weight almost non-existent, so light and bird-like she carries herself. Her eyes of eternal kindness, the smile of a thousand little suns. And when you add all that together, it seems unreal, doesn’t it? She does. A fantasy only staying for a few moments until it swims away, to someplace else, to someone else. Stanley sighs.

He cannot let this fantasy go. He cannot let her go.


	18. familiar

She’s combing through her hair when Stanley walks into the bathroom again. She’s sitting on the marble counter next to the sink, eyes dangling off the edge, and her eyes land warmly on Stanley when she sees him enter, and while she watches him approach her. He leans against the cabinet next to her with his side, crosses his arms and simply watches her. Her delicate hands move the comb through her dark, wet hair without any difficulty. Though her hair wasn’t always this taimable, and she’s already nearly done with combing it now. Then she’ll have to dry it with a fan. 

“Want me to brush your hair?” She offers him, looking at Stanley sideways. He shakes his head. 

“I’ll look like a gas station worker.” He says and makes Y/N chuckle. 

“Now that I think of it, I haven’t seen you with your hair straight.” She admits. “Bar Mitzvah doesn’t count.” 

Stanley shakes his head. “Straight hair doesn’t fit me.” He states. She stops her brushing and looks at him. 

“So you’ve tried it out?” She questions, intrigued. Stanley nods.

“Needed to get it dry quickly for an interview once, so I took P—“ he cuts himself short, “—I took a blow-dryer and… I truly looked like a creepy, greasy gas station guy. The job didn’t take me, anyway.” They both laugh.

“Probably because of your hair.” 

“Really? I had no idea.” Stanley shakes his head with a light, sarcastic smile on his lips. Y/N laughs again. She puts her brush aside and takes the fan from where it laid next to her and sticks the cable into the socket in the wall. She offers Stanley the black fan’s handle and he looks at her, puzzled. 

Y/N raises her eyebrows. “Wanna do mine?” She asks. Stanley’s a bit dumbfounded at first. “I’m too tired. My arms feel like jelly from the brushing.” She pouts. Stanley shrugs, and nods. He knows he’s never really fanned someone else’s hair, and he’d only done it to himself that one ungodly time. But he’ll be fine. It’s brushed, anyway, so there’s no worry about getting it tangled or otherwise damaged. 

He takes the two steps to stand in front of Y/N, fan in hand now. She turns around on the counter so her back would be facing him, she crosses her legs. Now they’re both facing the mirror and she gives him a smile before he turns the fan on. He starts drying at the very roots, and then threads through every other bunch of strands with his fingers to make the process easier. Y/N closes her eyes, finding his movements in her hair quite relaxing. 

At one point she had to turn around so Stanley could blow-dry the front of her hair. But she doesn’t just sit there in front of him, she takes the fan from his hand and turns it off, putting it in the corner of the counter. He gives her a questioning look as she turns back to him, but she pulls his lips to her own and kisses him, giving him every answer he’d be looking for. He does nothing more than melt against her, and she knows she’s got him again. 

Y/N’d be lying if she said she weren’t turned on since he took off his clothes to go into the shower with her. Truthfully, she’d wanted him since they were last in the hotel bed, naked and entangled with one another. So she threads her fingers into his wet curls and tries to push him against herself more and more, kissing him with all her might. She wraps her legs around his waist, making him groan. Her damp underwear presses teasingly for just a second against his stomach, and he grows hard. His eyelids flutter and his lips hang ajar against hers. Y/N knows she has him completely.

The slightest grin crosses her lips and she pulls her hands away from him. He almost falls on top of her when she lays down on the counter, giving him the most heavenly view. Her hands unbutton the shirt of his she chose to steal, slowly, button by button, knowing the slow pace of it all drives him mad but only increases the craving for the feeling of her. Both of their eyes are completely taken by clouds of lust as they hold eye-contact. 

The unbuttoned shirt leaves much to the imagination—the gap in the shirt now show-casing her perfect skin and the dip between her breasts, as well as the plump pillows, too. She pushes herself up again and Stanley puts his hands on the top of her thighs, increasing the closeness of their bodies. He’s now the one to chase her lips for a kiss, and she teases him a bit before she lets him kiss her. Y/N’s hands hold onto his neck, and as they kiss, she feels his finger gripping the waistband of her underwear, and in the next second, there’s a ripping sound between her pants and a whimper. 

“Stanley, those were…” she draws a deep breath in when his thumb treasingly grazes her womanhood, her words now lost in her throat, “those were my last pair…”

“I don’t care.” He doesn’t much filter what he’s saying, but he knows they both will find a way to fix this small underwear incident. All he needs right now is Y/N, to be inside her, and her lips are against his neck, drawing in shorter and shorter breaths, she’s grinding against him. He pulls her clitoral lips further apart and teases her entrance before he slides his hard length inside of Y/N. 

Neither of them stop moving, in complete bliss now, one that could be compared to a drug-induced trance state. Him finally being inside of her only heightens the level of pleasure and lust. Stanley seems to find a rhythm to follow in thrusting into her, and it’s perfect for reaching the spot inside her, to drive them both over the edge in the perfect time. 

Her pants grow into moans and whines, his sighs grow into groans due to his voice being lower than hers. His shirt is only hanging onto her by the sleeves, Y/N’s torso bare in front of him. Stanley leans over her for the sole purpose of being closer to her naked body. He still has his shirt on, which she’d count unfair if she wasn’t so blissed out. Neither of them could not care less about what clothes he has or has not on. 

When both of them are just at the brink of reaching their highs, Stanley grips her thighs tighter, and they clench together, as do her walls. A signal for him that she’s coming. And in the next second, she does come, and he follows her right after. Ever the gentleman, Y/N must admit. Her hands are grasping at his cheeks and he’s leaving definite bruises on her thighs, and they’re both breathing deeply in and out. 

Stanley pulls out of Y/N and looks down to see if he’s made a mess that he needs to clean up. He only sees his white substance dripping out of her entrance, and he almost faints at the hypnotising sight. He reaches for the closest tissue there is and gathers the liquid up and out of her, throwing the tissue out afterwards. Y/N whimpers at the harsh contact, but Stanley’s there the next second to kiss the discomfort away. And she desperately clings to him, hands around his neck and lips pressing against his. 

It’s only when he pulls away that he realises she’s crying. He pulls her up so she can sit on the counter and he cradles her head between his hands, looking into her eyes. But they close as you start to tear up, so Stanley can only wipe away the fallen and still falling tears and wait for her sobs to die down. He wonders why she’s crying, and the closeness to Y/N and the empathy for her brings out tears of his own. He has multiple guesses for why she’s crying, and every single one is most probably right. Stanley closes his eyes and pulls her against his chest. You’ll be alright. We’ll be alright.

Her sobs stop soon enough, sooner than either of them expected, and she looks up at Stanley. She tries to choose between the right things to say, she tries to decide whether to speak or not to. But Stanley lays a kiss on her forehead, a way to tell her there’s no need to say anything right now, as much he has the same big amount of words and feelings to speak out as she does. Instead, he decides, he’s gonna head into town. Just to buy her some essentials.

Stanley takes her to their bed and lays her under the covers, gently, slowly. He tells her to sleep if she needs to, and that he’s going to be back soon. He kisses her hands multiple times, for a short goodbye that gets, of course, extended when she pulls him down to her for a few more kisses on the lips. He can’t let her go, he can’t—how will he survive without her? Without this feeling, without this person, without these kisses, this feather touch, this impact of one’s heart? Only after pleading kisses can Stanley sourly take his wallet, put on his pants and head out of the door. 

She sniffles and Stanley sighs when the door closes behind him. This feels like running away. Definitely running away from each other, from their feelings, from the inevitability of what’s to come after this. Running away from the unspoken and unwanted results, futures. From the futures that are to come and aren’t exactly desired by either side. Not their dreams, no—their dreams of whatever life could have been are not coming true.

And what exactly are the dreams that haven’t come true? And the ones that won’t? A marriage? Kids, a house, a garden, Little League, being a soccer mom and dance class dad? What does a marriage even mean? To Stanley, getting engaged and having a little ceremony in front of close friends and rare family, it’s an earnest and sincere love letter to the love between two people. To Y/N, marriage is honestly an overrated event that’s been robbed of its true symbolism and purpose. Paying for a place to be turned romantic and beautiful, someone to give their blessing over their union and caterers serving food to fancy for anyone who’s attending, anyway. Invite all close friends and all people who might get angry or offended if they’re not invited to the wedding. Dance, cry, talk to people, pretend you have your life together, feel real love from your friends.

Maybe a marriage isn’t the worst dream she could have about herself and Stanley. Nevertheless, it’s something that won’t come true, and would only bring heartbreak to dream about. Though maybe it’s a better way to live in a fantasy than to live in the awfulness of whatever’s reality, taking her situation. 

Perhaps not marriage, but running away together? That’s another dream, which they both have had multiple times, especially on this early morning that touches the Losers with a feeling of sudden freedom. A well-deserved one. Running away isn’t left without repercussions, questions, doubts, news articles? What would they tell their friends, if they would at all? On what would they live? Where would they go? What would they do after the supposed running away? 

Neither of them should even think on this, or what the results would be, it’s nowhere near healthy. Y/N sighs. She’s pulled the horribly-over-washed white covers up to her armpits due to changing her position from laying on the mattress to sitting against the headboard. She’s exhausted, she can barely sit up, but her eyes and mind are wide open. She doesn’t even know if she’ll be able to fall asleep when she tries, she assumes she’ll have one of those things again where she feels like she’s waking up every ten minutes only to turn on her other side, and yet never really sleep because of the images flashing in front of her eyes at the speed of light. It’s happened only three times in her life, but it happening this time wouldn’t be a surprise.

She can’t fall asleep, she can’t calm down, her heart is thankfully calm, but she’s still not at rest. What if they didn’t put an end to it, after all… What if IT’s still out there, lurking, hiding, slithering around in the dark? Starting that wait of twenty-seven years once more? God… She can’t know that about a creature her brain can barely grasp the size and impact of. She can’t predict it, and the factor of not knowing is killing her. 

But a call of her name breaks the over-impending doom of her own anxieties. “Y/N? Stan? You guys in there? Hopefully decent?” Eddie’s voice comes from the other side of the hotel room door. Y/N clears her throat and buttons her shirt back up to be at least presentable. Oh shit, she doesn’t have any underwear on. She picks at her bottom lip. 

“Come right in. The door’s open.” She says, deciding to stay under the covers. The door handle pushes down and she greets Eddie and Richie in her tired state of mind and body and casts a faint smile their way. 

“We’re not imposing?” Richie squeaks out, his eyes going awkwardly wide and his posture freezing. She doesn’t look as presentable as anyone else would be, but then again this is Y/N, who’s been comfortable around her friends since birth, really. Prancing around in a shirt and undies, hanging out with only a towel around her to cover her. That’s called being comfortable in your skin and around the people who mean the world to you, not showing off skin or trying to entice anyone. Though not all of them could help if they did, sometimes. 

Y/N shakes her head and sits up straighter in the bed. Eddie and Richie take a seat at the end of the hotel bed, and she notices they’re wearing different clothes. And Richie looks mighty strange in the clothes he’s wearing - they don’t look like his. That’s because they’re Eddie’s, Y/N realises. Clean, basic, with no graphic print or a pattern—totally oposite to what Richie chooses as his clothes. He probably brought only a hoodie and sweatpants (which totally haven’t been washed beforehand because of lack of time) and thought he’d be alright. 

Richie and Eddie both look at Y/N. 

“What is it?” She asks, her voice thin and her eyes wide. Eddie shakes his head.

“We’re just… checking in with everyone.” He says. 

“Also we made a bet on whether or not you guys would be fucking.” Richie says. Y/N snorts and shakes her head.

“You’re disgusting, Rich—“

“Eddie bet on no.”

“Then he’s clearly won.”

“Where is Stan, by the way?”

“Oh, he went out…” Y/N points to the room door, “somewhere. Didn’t really tell me.” Eddie and Richie nod. “That’s a good idea, about checking in, though. Now I feel I should have done it.”

“Ah, we thought we were being weird.” Eddie admits, and breathes a shaky chuckle. Y/N shakes her head. 

“You would never,” she assures him, “but I feel there’s something more than checking in you’re doing here.” 

The two men look between themselves, and then back at her. It takes a bit of time before Eddie speaks up. “We owe you, sort of, a big thank you.” Y/N raises her eyebrows. 

“For like, you know—uh, this—“ Richie raises his and Eddie’s intertwined hands, “this—we couldn’t—“

“You gave us, I think, especially me, strength and what’s the word… bravery to make this… happen.” Eddie says.

“Hey, not especially you, especially me.” Richie buts in.

“No, me, dude, do you know how hard it was for me to actually accept—“

“Yeah, buddy, how was it for me, then, huh, you know I—“

“Guys, shut up, please,” Y/N rubs her forehead, Eddie and Richie look at her, puzzled. Oh, we’re giving her a migraine. Or does she have one already? I think I still have Advil in my bathroom, Eddie speculates. “I think you’re both on the same level, okay?” She chuckles. “And it’s very nice to hear that. Why-why me?”

“You both, really. Your… choice. Choices. Considering… everything.” Y/N furrows her eyebrows at Eddie’s words.

“You do know Stanley’s married?” Richie asks her. She nods with a sober face and leans further into the pillows below her. 

“Yes, I know that perfectly well.” She says. “I’m very proud of you guys. So is Stanley. But since we really haven’t made… any choices, your thankfulness is a bit out of place.”

“Bullshit! You’re gonna be together, it’s as clear as day.” Richie argues. “Also, let us thank you. We love you.”

“I’m still surprised you guys aren’t actually married.” Eddie admits, shaking his head. “But, you know, we’re really happy that… we’ve actually come out of this, all of us, alive. And like this.” He raises his and Richie’s hands once again. Y/N nods. Eddie smiles. “Don’t think I’ve ever felt happier.” 

That makes Y/N smile. She sits up straighter in her bed again and stretches her arms out. “Come on,” she whispers, and Richie and Eddie immediately move closer to her. They lay in a small, warm, full-of-love group hug in the quiet morning hour. Y/N lays a kiss on both Richie’s and Eddie’s head, and then she pulls them even closer. “Love you guys so much.” 

“Love you too, girlie.” Eddie says, and Y/N can hear the smile is still on his face. 

“I can feel your boob through Stan’s shirt.” Richie says with his eyes closed and a goofy smile playing on his lips. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Y/N pokes his head with her finger.

“Fuck you, Richard.” She says tiredly and closes her eyes, too, her head resting in Richie’s bed of curls. She sighs. “I’m proud of you both. I wish me and Stanley…”

Had it that easy? Like they’ve had it easy. What they’ve been through, what they’ve felt, the many people and groups of society through different stages of their lives they’ve been oppressed by—that’s not easy, Y/N. Even only Eddie’s mom and Henry Bowers, and the age you all grew up in, the town, the people, the stereotypes.

Could have the love they have? Missy, you already have that. The purest, deepest state and highest position of love. Friendship that grew into a relationship, but they never lost the friend part. And that makes the romantic and the general bond only stronger. 

Could be together? Fuck yeah. Yes, please God, just make all complications go away, let us live, let us love, let us be with one another. That’s all I want, that’s all I ask, I will give anything to have that. Just give us this, after everything, please just give us this one thing.

She stays silent. Her eyes freeze a little due to being clearly very deeply in thought, but her exhaustion takes over and her eyes return to a relaxed state, her eyelids droopy and barely keeping themselves apart. 

“Do you feel like sleeping, sweetheart?” Richie asks. Y/N nods. 

“Sorry.” She tells them. The men pull away, but look ernestly at Y/N. Richie lets a hand slide across her cheek softly.

“You look depressed, sweets.” He says. Eddie rolls his eyes, looking away. Y/N only looks at Richie. She huffs then.

“I guess I am.” She admits and immediately looks away. “Um… would you mind—“

“No, no, not at all. We’ll leave you at peace.” Eddie says and gives her a sincere smile. He puts his hand over hers and she gives him a smile that only lasts a half-second, sadly. Eddie almost frowns. “Richie says he’s got somewhere to take me, anyway.” He says and glances at Richie next to him for a second. Y/N looks at Richie, too. He’s nodding and even smiling. Y/N can’t resist the true smile breaking on her lips. A tear even appears at the corner of her eye, maybe because her smile is too wide, maybe because she’s overwhelmed by the love for her friends, by the pride for them. Truthfully, it’s both. 

More tears gather, and Y/N wipes every single one away and tries to keep her breathing intact, but it’s hard. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, they’re happy, they’re happy, they love each other, everything’s fine, life is fine. But that doesn’t help. She can barely keep herself under control. Eddie and Richie hug her again. 

“Aw, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Richie tells her. Eddie’s hand moves soothingly up and down her shaking back. 

“We’re all okay, Y/N.” He says. “Everything’s gonna work out fine.” That makes her sob out loud. “It’s going to, trust us.” Is it? Is everything going to be okay? Like, really, perfectly, wish-upon-a-star okay? 

Y/N sits, embraced by her friends, crying silently, and at the same time trying not to cry. But after a few moments, she decides enough fragility is enough, and she curls up more under her covers, into her pillows, drawing back from the guys. They look at her, puzzled, once again, but they understand. It’s best to leave her alone. 

“I’m sorry.” She squeaks out, face in her hands. “You better—I’m not—“

“Don’t you worry,” Eddie says with a genuine smile, “just take care, sweetheart.” 

“We’ll tell Stan to hurry back if we see him.” Richie adds. They get up off the bed and stand now before Y/N. She nods, now covering her mouth with her hand. “We love you.”

“See you around, baby.” Eddie says and she nods again. They go out the door, leaving Y/N in complete silence after closing it after them. She’s left alone again. Honestly, she doesn’t know what she’d prefer better—be left to her lonesome or be with her friends. Or be with Stanley and bear the overwhelming tension-layered silence that’s weighed down more by the questions and guesses which are what make the tension.

She wants to wait for Stanley’s return, but a part of her wants the opposite. And she considers her miserable state, so she decides on the latter. She turns her back to the door, slides further down into the bed and pulls the thick blanket the hotel provides over her head. She almost doesn’t need a pillow, the top of her head pushing against the bottom of one pillow.


	19. galoshes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: HI OMG! It has been SO fucking long. I am very sorry for that, I just had the most horrible state of mental health over summer 2020 and now I’m a bit better. It’s been a year since I saw IT2, also since I started writing for Stan & the Losers, and also it’s been 3 years since I first saw IT (2017) for the first time. A lot of anniversaries. I am so happy that I’ve started writing again. I feel like myself a bit more :). Love you guys a lot, and I hope Heaven’s still interesting to you. I really want to finish it… There’s not a series I’ve written or planned out that are finished, and I want to finish Heaven because that’s, I feel, how I can honor my favourite fictional character, the love of my life, my sunshine, my moon and stars, my angel, Stanley Uris. So, happy quarantine (or not) reading to you all!
> 
> warnings: Water, floods, mentions of death and self-abuse. Nothing else, I think… Also, this chapter is sort of a filler?? Idk, but the end is near hahhahah

Walking through Derry town, though now in almost a complete flood due to the sewers, could only be described as playing a video-game or watching a movie where the plot is your own childhood and teenage years. Stanley felt like an intruder when he walked through town with his friends, led by Mike, in the early hours of yesterday morning. An intruder to his hometown and his early life. But he doesn’t feel that now. He feels like he’s at home, and he finally has a good feeling about the thought of being home. 

Where does one actually purchase clothes in this town anymore? If any stores are open around this time, today… Stanley saw a mall, or even two, built somewhere in town, on his taxi-ride from the bus station. Derry is evolving, has been for some time, hopefully. Stanley remembers thinking, on that taxi-ride, that he couldn’t recognise the town at first. He arrived in the evening, and most every building, small or big, was decorated with bright neon signs and lights; windows in private houses and apartment buildings were warmly lit-up. From the outside, or passing through, Derry created quite the false impression of what kind of town it was. 

At some point, Stanley realised he had been walking without a certain goal in mind; his feet were only carrying him forwards, taking turns here and there. He didn’t mind when he started really recognising the streets and houses and shops. Even some pavements and trees–they hadn’t changed at all. It’s been almost 30 years, and yet some things haven’t been moved. 

Standing at the joint where you can see the Derry Town Library, he sees not only the library, or the streams of water pouring down, or the confused people walking by. He also sees himself, Bill, Eddie and Richie riding down the wide street on their bikes. They’re all smiling, and Bill’s howling “Hiyo, Silver - away!” for the millionth time in his life. Always looked strange, Bill did, a small, pouting skeleton-like boy on a bike twice his actual size, recklessly driving around Derry. But that was Big Bill. That was just one of his shticks. 

It even feels as though Stanley can hear his own laugh, he can feel how the buttoned-up shirt and the edges of his slack shorts are brushing and hugging against his skin. He can feel the sun’s intense, on the verge of dangerous, rays on his forearms, thighs and cheeks. His feet feel hot in his high cotton socks and tennis sneakers. The freedom he felt that moment; and he’s sure his friends felt it, too. The core four. What free kids they were…

Stanley wonders if there are kids like that still in Derry. A group of friends, minding their business, riding around on bikes, always seen together laughing or smiling amongst themselves. Maybe they’re losers, like the Losers Club were, seemingly regular kids who can’t seem to fit into the strange society of Derry. Stanley hopes that if there are such kids, that they’re united, but not in the way he and his friends, sadly, were. He hopes nothing bad happens to any kid in Derry anymore. And now, he can actually be sure it won’t. IT is killed. Dead. No longer here to torture poor, innocent, young souls or have its hold over the adults.

As he walks past the Library, his thoughts slip to having his own kids. Why he and Patty weren’t able to conceive any, even though there was nothing physically wrong with either of them. They tried for so long… And he thinks, maybe the Losers who left Derry, all except for Mike, have that same problem. But maybe Mike hasn’t been able to have any kids, too. So what’s the missing thing in all of them? Maybe it’s to do with all Losers, and what they did to IT in 1989.

Stanley comes to the possible conclusion that IT was responsible for his inability to have kids. And maybe it was a gift from IT, of sorts, the only gift. That they’re not able to let children into the same world in which IT exists; robbing IT of the opportunity of terrorising and traumatising more children; robbing the Losers of experiencing their kids going through the same traumatic torture they went through as kids; saving their unborn children.

What would we have been like as adults, if we’d stayed in Derry? And if we could have had children, would we treat them the same our parents and other adults treated us? Would Bill ignore his kids? Would Beverly be abusive towards her children? Would Stanley put pressure on his son? Would Eddie give his kids paranoia, fear of diseases and the placebo mindset? Would the Losers just become regular Derry adults, blind to the horrors their children are going through, blind to the overall horrors that happen in Derry? Or would they be different? Would they change anything?

Stanley stands in front of a department store entrance. The street is flooded, he feels water creeping into his shoes and socks already. But the store seems to be working, lights are on and employees in their uniforms are walking around. So Stanley steps forward and the sliding doors automatically open to let him in. In some claustrophobic way, it feels like the store swallows him whole. But he walks inside. 

He doesn’t remember this big of a store being here in Derry before. Stanley even thinks there was once a bank here, instead of an department store building. A bank from which men in suits and women in formal clothing would always walk out and walk in. As the Losers passed the bank as kids, Stanley always thought of the people walking in and out of it, how they were richer, how they were more high-headed than most of Derry’s residents. That they had something better going for them.

Stanley can’t really complain himself; his accounting company is one of the wealthiest in the West Coast of the US, recently passing 10 six-digit numbers in profit. And he’s got a lovely house in Atlanta, and he and Patty were planning a trip to Buenos-Aires. Seems to himself like he became one of those bank people he often saw in his hometown. Kid Stanley would not believe his eyes if he saw himself, older, right now. 

Entering the department store, he walks by the first cash register on his way to the shopping basket pile. “Say, mister,” a particular male employee addresses Stanley, his spoken words slightly muffled by his black mustache, “what’s going on out there? Whole street looks flooded.” His eyes, although kind and well-meaning, bore into Stanley’s. He smiles to himself and thinks, he must be on a night shift. The flood started at five or six am, so it’d be hard to miss if going to work early.

“Some explosion in the sewer drainage system,” Stanley responds as he grabs an empty basket; his face kind and relaxed, “from what I’ve seen, half the town’s actually flooded.” 

The employee grunts, his mustache hairs rising and falling with it. Stanley almost laughs out loud, but he doesn’t want to embarrass the nice man. “I hope I can get home after my shift ends.” The employee says. Stanley smiles at him. 

“I wish you the best of luck.” He tells him and turns around to start his shopping journey, noting in mind to pay for his products at this gentleman’s register. The employee watches after him, thinking to himself, what a normal guy, but there’s something odd about him. Or something oddly familiar? Did we go to the same school as kids or somethin’?

Stanley seems to be the only customer at the store, and he’s content that he is. He sometimes feels funny in crowds; and trust me, the Derry crowd is definitely not the best one to be in. But who knows - maybe the people of Derry have changed after this big flood, and the event that happened to cause the flood…

Stanley tries not to take too long in the store, knowing Y/N is alone in her hotel room, not likely asleep in a deep slumber, waiting for him. And he doesn’t want to stay in Derry longer than necessary. Yes, it is nice to walk through his memories, get a bit sentimental, and remember the fun days here. But it’s still too hard. And what if his parents hear that he’s returned? He definitely does not want to pay them a visit, if they’re still here, that is. And he doesn’t want to make Patty worried. 

He gets a pack of undies for Y/N, remembering the ones he ripped were her last pair. He gets a few chocolate bars, dried banana chips (his favorite) and some small juice packs. Stanley also throws some of the recent magazines in his basket. Once at the clothing shelves, he takes two regular button-up shirts, just in case. He sees a grey hoodie, it somehow catches his attention, and he thinks what the hell, and throws two of those into the basket as well. He takes a fresh cup of coffee from a bar, where an elderly lady with white hair is folding tissues, and she smiles at Stanley as she does it. He smiles back. Folks weren’t this nice when he was a kid.

Stanley decides he’s got everything he needs for the few more hours he’s gonna be here, anyway, and heads over to the mustached-gentleman’s cash register. “Got everything ya need?” He questions, raising a thick eyebrow at Stanley. He nods, struggling a bit to take his wallet out of his back pocket. “I’d think you want to get some rainboots, too.” The man says. Rainboots. Galoshes. And maybe a yellow raincoat, like Georgie’s was. Stanley simply blinks for a couple seconds, unconsciously staring at the employee. “I mean, we don’t know if the flood is gonna get heavier or pipe down, pun intended, might as well better be safe than sorry.”

Stanley comes back to reality and nods. “My, you’re right. Can you hold on a second while I go get a pair?” He requests.

“Oh, ayuh. Eighth isle on your right.” He tells him, starting to register Stanley’s chosen things. Stanley mutters a quick ‘thank you’ and heads off. He jogs to the mentioned eighth isle and sees the choice for rubber boots, made for rainy weather. Black ones, blue ones, white ones, red ones… He takes a black pair in his size, and realises Y/N might need some, too, and takes a pair of white boots in her size. Her shoe size probably won’t have changed much since the one she had almost twenty years ago. Feet grow fast, and then stay the same until they start to shrink when you’re very old.

Stanley returns to the register, the old gentleman - now, up close, he reads that his name is Fred - holding today’s paper in hand. He stops reading it once Stanley places the rain boots on the counter. “Looks like you might be right about the sewer explosion thing. Ain’t nothing said about any natural floods in this area in the paper.” Fred tells Stanley.

He can only offer Fred an innocent, kind smile and a simple nod. Stanley puts the size L plastic bag on the counter for Fred to scan, too. 

“You from around here?” Fred asks, once again cocking an eyebrow at Stanley. He nods again. Then he shrugs, and then shakes his head. 

“I grew up here. Haven’t really… visited in a… in a very long while.” Stanley admits. Fred nods. 

“Went to school here, too?” 

“Uh, yeah, Derry High.” 

“No shit! Me too.” Fred admits while Stanley pays for his things. Stanley genuinely smiles. “Graduated in '95?” 

“I think so, yeah.”

“Hell!” Fred laughs. “We musta been in the same year. Fred Smitheaven.” He extends his hand towards Stanley to shake, and he gladly does. 

“I must admit, I don’t remember a lot from my childhood, as weird as it sounds. But that name rings a bell.” Stanley tells him. 

“Ayuh, no worries, man.” He says. “It might sound crazy, but when I was away on a first trip by myself, I went to New York city. And man, after a few days, I really couldn’t remember where I came from and who my parents were. I think I went a lil’ crazy then, but the memory got better when I got home. I don’t know, it probably sounds like nonsense.”

Fred’s words send a chill down Stanley’s spine. So we weren’t not the only ones. I thought it was just us, Losers, who had that. “Doesn’t actually sound that crazy to me.” He soothes the man. 

Fred helps Stanley put all his purchases in the bag. “I assume you stayed here? After graduation?” Stanley asks. He now sits down on the register to take off his shoes and put the rain boots on instead. 

“Yeah. Finished the Police academy and joined the local force. Was a sheriff for a while, but after the case of Alvin Marsh, I quit. Now I run this place.” Fred sticks his hands in the pocket of his slacks and smiles with a puff of breath, his mustache moving up and down again. Stanley nods, impressed. But something in what Fred said catches his attention a bit more than it probably should.

“What was the case with Alvin Marsh?” He asks. Fred shakes his head, a far-away look in his eyes.

“Oh, nasty business, my friend, nasty business…” He says. “Poor fella was diagnosed with cancer, but it wasn’t the cancer that took him, it was himself. From what the morgue experts said, he’d probably gone a little crazy to do it, but he sprayed a certain bottle of perfume everywhere in himself. I mean, eyes, ears, nose, mouth and… well, down there.” 

Stanley flinches at his words. 

“Nasty business, I’m telling you. That was only half of it, but I honestly still ain’t got the balls to say it out loud. Triggers all kind of emotion right outta me.” Fred looks down. 

“I understand. Didn’t mean to upset you or, or cause a breakdown.” 

“Ah, you’re cool, man, don’t worry.” 

“I’m Stanley Uris, by the way.” Stanley says after realising he never did introduce himself to Fred. They shake hands again, Fred giving him a kind smile. 

“Nice to meet you, probably again, Stan Uris.” He says. “Come by sometime, if you ain’t too busy. It’d be nice to talk to you more.” 

“Maybe I will. I’ll know where to find you, anyway.” Stanley responds. He grabs his shopping bag.

“Okay.” Fred smiles wide. “You be safe out there!” He calls out when Stanley’s almost out the door. Stanley turns around to give him a nod and a wave. He’s definitely seeing Fred Smitheaven for the last time today. He’s not even sure he’ll remember anything that happened in the past three days or in 1989, or any of the time he’s spent in Derry in his life, after he leaves this town again. The amnesia is surely bound to happen again.

It was a good decision to wear the rain boots because the water level has gotten a bit higher since the moment Stanley came into the store. Stanley feels the coldness of the water through his boots almost reaching over his ankle. He sighs. At least it’s not raining. And at least the Derry Town Inn is on a hill. Derry, as a town, is overall a flat surface, but it does have some hills and some deeper, lower places. Derry Town Inn is on Derry’s highest hill, yet the Quarry is the deepest point in which Derry earth can go. So Stanley and his friends should be safe from the flood while they’re residing at the Inn.

Stanley doesn’t stall at different places that trigger memories on his way back, because the sound of splashing water and him being in actual sewer water is making him remember what he’d like to forget, and heightening his anxieties about dirty places and dirty things, and overall making him wish he’d be in a warm, dry place.

He reaches the Inn in under 15 minutes, and notices a guy in a red uniform standing at the entrance doors with two white bags in his hands. There’s an uncomfortable look on his face, and his legs are wet from the feet to the shin up. Stanley offers him entry to the Inn, but the guy shakes his head. Stanley shrugs and opens the door for himself. 

He sighs contently once he’s inside. The lady behind the reception desk eyes him with suspicion, Stanley smiles at her warmly when he notices staring, takes off his rain boots and goes slowly upstairs. He doesn’t know the lady still watches him suspiciously until he starts walking up the stairs; after that she diverts her attention to the romance book she was reading previously. Stanley doesn’t look over his shoulder anymore, it seems, since the only thing he should be looking over his shoulder for is a hundred percent gone now.

On his way upstairs, he meets Bill, who is jogging down the opposite direction. “Oh, hey, man.” Bill says and shoots Stanley an excited smile. Stanley raises his eyebrows. 

“Hey, Bill.” He responds and adjusts his glasses. Stanley is sure he hasn’t seen this exact look on Bill’s face since the summer of 1988, before Georgie was taken. “What’s got you in a hurry?” 

Bill stops a few steps down from Stanley and looks at him. “Oh, nothing, me and Mikey just ordered some take-out and I’m going to get it now. The guy’s downstairs.” Bill responds.

“I saw him, I offered to let him in, but he refused. He looks soaked, though.” Stanley nods his head.

“Some people here don’t seem to change, huh?” Bill offers. Stanley smiles.

“Guess not.” He agrees. “I’m gonna go upstairs. You two enjoy your food.” He wishes. Bill smiles now.

“Thanks.” He says and resumes jogging down the dark, wooden stairs. “Enjoy your groceries!” Bill calls to Stanley before he’s out of ear-shot. Stanley laughs out loud and shakes his head, and continues his journey to his hotel room.


End file.
